


Cocktail Hour

by gmariam



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 35,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7141379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/pseuds/gmariam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short drabbles, each relating to one episode and one drink. Short but hopefully potent, with a possible dash of angst, fluff, or humor here and there. Definite trigger warning for alcohol abuse, because Torchwood is not a happy place most of the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vodka

1\. Vodka

Jack slammed back another shot, determined to knock himself out before the clock struck midnight. It was the only way he'd get some respite, the only way to quiet the never ending report of the shot that blew out the back of Suzie's head, the sound of her body hitting the ground, Gwen Cooper screaming in the background.

He'd lost people before, of course. Hell, he'd watched Alex shoot himself on New Year's Eve seven years earlier. But he'd been a freelancer then, not in charge. This had happened on his watch. Suzie was part of _his_ team, he'd hand picked and groomed her to be his second-in-command. Had he seen the darkness within her? Of course. They were all touched by it in one way or another. It had never occurred to him that she would fall into it like Alex. That she would give in to despair and be consumed by it. That she would fucking shoot herself in the—

With a guttural curse that came out more like a sob, he threw the crystal glass against the wall. And now he'd have to clean it up and replace it, because he wasn't even drunk enough to pass out and forget it all—forget for just one minute how completely and utterly he'd failed his team. How he'd failed Suzie Costello.

Grabbing the bottle, he downed another shot and stood on shaky legs, enjoying the lack of balance that came from drinking half a bottle of vodka on his own. He staggered around the room, muttering to himself, slugging it straight up with a shudder every time, until he finally collapsed on the sofa, one hand over his eyes as they leaked tears, the other barely grasping the half-empty Grey Goose between numb fingers.

And then the bottle was gone, a blanket was pulled over him, and the lights were turned down. Jack could have sworn he heard a gorgeous Welsh accent murmuring something soothing as he finally drifted into blessed unconsciousness.

Ianto Jones pulled the door shut behind him, took a long swig from the expensive bottle of liquor, then nodded to himself and decided to finish it downstairs.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus begins my summer drabble project! One drabble for every episode (well, almost every episode...some blur together, and some don't need one.) Each drabble centers around the Torchwood team and a drink, whether they are drinking alone, in pairs, or all together. Each installment will be short, but there will be many, covering all sorts of angsty things, all sorts of pairings, and all sorts of liquor. Enjoy!


	2. Red Wine

2\. Red Wine

"To your first case," said Rhys, holding up a glass of red wine. "And may we finish our dinner before you have to run off on the next."

Gwen clinked glasses with him and smiled. She took a long sip, letting the cabernet distract her from everything that had happened on her first case. From getting called out unexpectedly during her date, to releasing some sort of alien sex gas that resulted in the deaths of dozens of men, to snogging a woman under the influence of that sex gas alien, Torchwood was nothing like what she had expected, and the biggest problem was that she couldn't tell Rhys any of it.

Oh, she'd signed the Official Secrets act so she understood perfectly well what she'd got herself into. It was just that the first day had been so hard, and she couldn't even talk to her boyfriend about it, not really. Not about the big things, the aliens and the Rift and Jack.

Setting down her glass, she told him a bit about her coworkers and the Hub, talking her way around the case as much as she could. She finished one glass and another almost magically appeared. A third refill accompanied her chicken cacciatore, by which point she was thinking that if Jack showed up to drag her off to another meteorite crash, she'd be hard pressed to walk a straight line, yet alone keep her thoughts in order.

Which meant she might as well have a fourth glass with dessert, after which she felt the almost uncontrollable urge to sob. Rhys was confused by her sudden change in mood. She confessed that there was so much she couldn't tell him because it was classified, and she hated that she couldn't tell him, maybe she should have stayed with the police and lived a normal life instead of joining a special ops team that was nothing but secrets, secrets, and more secrets that she couldn't even share with her boyfriend no matter how awful her day had been.

Rhys took her hand and told her she was amazing, that he was so proud of her, and then whispered something in her ear about showing her how much later. About giving her something to look forward to when they were home. Something to take her mind off Torchwood.

She kissed him hard, suspecting it wouldn't be the first time she'd need to put Torchwood behind her.


	3. White Wine

3\. White Wine

Tosh had rarely seen Owen so rattled. Yes, he'd been upset about various cases over the years—losing people, losing aliens—and there had been several times when he'd been pissed off at the end of the day, either at Jack or the dumb government bureaucrats who made their job ten times harder. This time, however, he seemed confused. Angry, yes, but angry over something that had happened decades ago and baffled by his strong response to it.

Which was probably the only reason why he was sitting with her at a small pub near the Quay. She was even more surprised when he accepted the glass of wine she set down before him. Though she knew perfectly well he preferred a good beer, she wasn't sure what to get at the bar, not with ten draughts on tap and another dozen bottles to choose from. As she'd insisted that he sit down while she got them both something to calm their nerves, she was inordinately pleased when he didn't scoff at the stemmed glass she brought him instead of a pint.

"I could have killed him, Tosh," Owen said, shaking his head as he sipped at the house white. It wasn't particularly good—Tosh preferred a more balanced Pinot Grigio to the slightly mineral tang of whatever blend the pub poured—but Owen didn't seem to mind as he twirled the glass between his fingers.

"I don't believe that," she said, and he grunted.

"Then you don't really know me."

"I know you were influenced by the transducer," she said, leaning forward but refraining from touching his hand in support. "I know you were upset by what you saw, and rightfully so. You wanted justice for what he did to that woman, that's perfectly understandable. But you're not a vigilante, Owen. You don't take lives without reason."

"Oh, he had a reason," Owen replied bitterly.

"Maybe," said Tosh. She glanced down at her drink, took a sip, and continued. "But maybe he paid for it with the life he lived, rather than the way he died. He had a hard, broken, miserable life."

"Just rewards and all that?" asked Owen. He finished his drink and stood. "Maybe. At least he got what he deserved in the end, even if it was a stupid accident." He motioned to her glass. "Want another?"

Tosh shook her head. "Not yet, no. Thank you."

"I'm going to grab a pint. Or several," said Owen. He stalked off toward the bar, shoulders still hunched. Tosh sighed and hoped she could somehow ease his pain, but doubted anything could do that right now, even several pints of his favorite IPA.

She also hoped she had enough money to send him home in a cab. And that they could all move on the next day, yet again.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait 'till the next one. :)


	4. Bourbon

4\. Bourbon

Ianto hated bourbon. He hated it straight, he hated it over ice, he hated it mixed. Which was why he had no idea how he'd managed to finish another glass at the local a few blocks from his flat. But Jack had called him that morning to tell him his suspension was over, and that Ianto should return to work on Monday. As soon as they'd hung up, Ianto had wasted no time in grabbing his coat and making for the nearest pub, where he decided he'd spend the rest of the weekend suitably pissed. That way he wouldn't have to think about returning to the place where his girlfriend had died, to the coworkers who had shot and killed her and didn't give a damn about either one of them.

It wasn't that he didn't want to return to Torchwood. Torchwood was, in many ways, all he had now. He'd enjoyed his work in London until it had been wiped out by an arrogant meglomaniac in stilettos and a robotic army from another dimension, and he liked Torchwood Cardiff even more. It was everything London was not—impulsive, messy, disorganized, barely surviving by the seat of their pants—and yet it worked. Torchwood Three saved the world on a weekly basis and did not compromise their morals to do so. Ianto appreciated that even more after the disaster that was Canary Wharf, not to mention the high-end espresso machine.

He finished his drink and motioned for another, this time picking some bottle with a huge bird on it, reasoning that it should taste great now that he'd put back four of them. Feeling more than tipsy but not yet drunk, Ianto turned and surveyed the pub. It was still early so not quite full. Maybe later there would be some pool to be played, or a few women to pull. He frowned. He shouldn't think about that, his girlfriend was only a month dead and gone. He must have had more to drink than he thought. The barmaid slid him another glass of amber liquor. She was cute, wasn't she, all blue eyes and ginger hair and subtle curves, everything that Jack was not-

Wait, Jack? Where did that thought come from? He checked his watch. He'd been there about two hours, maybe this was his fifth or sixth drink? Knob Creek, Bookers, Four Roses—that had been decent, he'd had at least two or three or those—still, that didn't excuse him thinking about Jack like that, comparing him to a potential shag behind the bar. Jack was his boss, Jack was a man, Jack was responsible for murdering his girlfriend…

No, that was Ianto. He was the one who had failed to save her. He was the one who'd put her through hell for three months, hiding her in the dark, dank basement of his workplace, and then at the very end when it had all gone to shit, he hadn't been able to help her, let alone save her from herself. Jack had done what he couldn't. Sometimes Ianto hated Jack for that, sometimes he couldn't be more grateful. Jack had killed her, but he'd also saved Lisa from becoming a psychotic mass murderer, the first in a new Cyber army bent on converting the planet. Lisa wouldn't have wanted that, so maybe it was all right that Ianto had inappropriate thoughts about the man. It was probably just a bit of hero worship, a passing crush, and the lack of sexual activity with anything other than his right hand.

Except that he'd had similar thoughts about Jack before, all the way back to the first night he'd met the enigmatic captain in the park and many nights since. No one could deny that Jack Harkness was a force of nature: charming, attractive, and apparently always willing and available if the stories were true. Of course Ianto was attracted to the man, who wasn't? The aliens that dropped out of the sky and fell through the Rift were probably queuing up to sleep with the man. It was fine, no big deal. Just like it was no big deal that come Monday morning Ianto would be working with his boss slash murderer slash inappropriate sexual fantasy.

He finished the bourbon. Vile drink. Americans didn't have a clue. The Scots did it much better, though he wasn't sure if that was whisky or scotch? He knew Jack liked scotch, there was a nice bottle of Laphroaig in his office. Ianto ordered one from the ginger-haired barmaid with the full lips and gorgeous tits. Maybe if he didn't start slurring his words he could talk her into hooking up later. He should probably get a glass of water then, maybe some chips, or he'd never get it up. He asked for both. She winked. He was definitely pulling tonight.

And then a World War II greatcoat walked in the door. Ianto swore, knocked back the Laphroaig in one go and signaled for another. He'd need it if Jack Harkness was looking for him, and from the expression on his boss's face, Jack wasn't there for a pint and some conversation. Ianto had no idea what the hell Jack was there for, but it couldn't be good, and Ianto doubted his night would end with the quick fuck he'd been hoping for.

Then again, Jack Harkness was sitting next to him with a shit-eating grin and a glass of water. Maybe they could both pull tonight.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite yet. I'm planning many, many more though. Thank you for all the reads and reviews!


	5. Beer

5\. Beer

"I can't believe he gave her away!" Gwen exclaimed yet again. Tosh glanced away and Owen ignored the Welshwoman in favor of finishing his pint and starting on the next. They were sitting at a bar not far from the Hub, tucked into a corner with a large number of drinks on the table already. Owen had insisted on several at once, as he was determined to get drunk fast and hard. He wanted to forget he'd ever seen a fairy, or that a young girl had flow off with them, but it seemed Gwen couldn't stop railing about it.

"Ianto's right, Jack's a monster sometimes," she continued, oblivious to their reaction. "He doesn't think about anything, does he? Not the victims, not their loved ones, not us, not the rest of the world. He just cares about the job."

Tosh frowned and met Owen's eyes. He knew exactly what she was thinking and shrugged. If she wanted to get into it with Gwen, the more power to her. Owen worked on his next pint and half listened.

"I don't think that's true," Tosh said quietly, staring into her glass. Gwen actually snorted, which made Tosh look up, her eyes flashing before she looked away again. "He does care, Gwen. Trust me, we've known him longer than you have, and he cares. But he also knows that sometimes he's got to do the wrong thing for the right reasons, no matter how hard it is."

"Sending a child off to die is never right!" Gwen insisted. "He should have found a way."

"I don't think there was any other way," Tosh said quietly. "Jack knows more about the things we face than anyone, and if he says there was no other way to defeat the fairies, then I believe him." She finished her drink and reached for another. Owen winked and then grinned when she blushed. "That doesn't mean I like it, but I trust him."

Gwen stared at the other woman liked she'd grown a second head, then turned to Owen. "What do you think?" she demanded. "Do you believe him? Trust him?"

Owen calmly finished his pint and stood to get them all another two rounds. "Yes, I do. And like Tosh said, that doesn't mean I like it either. But I get it. We make the hard calls here, the big sacrifices, and if you can't handle it, find another job."

She jumped up and stared at him. "No! I'm here to change that, to remind you what you're fighting for."

"You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart," he replied, offering a tight grin. "You're here because you have a nice set of tits and arse."

"Fuck you!" she shouted, and shoved him. Tosh jumped up as if to separate them, but didn't move to stop them. As much as Owen wanted to push back, to let out his own frustrations with the case, he didn't. Hurting Gwen wasn't the answer, and he still remembered that kiss in the medical bay. He'd shag her eventually. Besides, he got it, he really did. He understood her anger, how many times had he felt it himself? He'd just had years to understand, to accept it. To learn how to drink and shag it away.

"Fuck Torchwood," he offered instead. "Fuck the Rift. Fuck aliens and fairies and killer robots. Because that's the problem, not Jack. And if you think you can stop the Rift from spitting shit at us, or keep aliens off our arse with your bloody compassion, good luck to you. I'll be here, saving the world with Jack and a few more pints."

He turned and went back to the bar, more determined than ever to put this one behind him


	6. Hot Chocolate

6\. Hot Chocolate

"Well," said Ianto, setting a red mug in front Tosh that read _Keep Calm - We're Torchwood._ "That was certainly unexpected."

Tosh stared at the mug, wondering if she'd suffered brain damage when she'd been choked, or if Owen had slipped her too much of the good stuff. "So is this," she replied, holding up the mug with a skeptical look on her face. "Torchwood coffee mugs, Ianto? I thought the SUV was bad enough."

Ianto sat down across from her with a black and white mug that said _Keep Calm and Fuck Off_ on it. He closed his eyes, took a long sip, and sighed happily. Or as happily as one could after being beaten by Welsh cannibals in the rural countryside. "Yvonne Hartmann, Torchwood Christmas party. Need I say more?"

"Nope," said Tosh, taking a drink from her own mug and almost exclaiming in surprise. It was definitely not coffee, and it was absolutely delicious. "Oh, that's perfect."

"Hot chocolate with a shot of Kahlua and topped off with Carolan's," Ianto replied, grinning into his cup. "It was that or hot chocolate with tequila, and I'm not feeling that adventurous."

"We probably shouldn't even be drinking," Tosh pointed out. "Not after the day we had."

"That's exactly why we should be drinking," Ianto replied, his smile disappearing. "If I didn't want to end up in the hospital, I'd drink the tequila straight."

"Oh, Ianto," she replied, setting down her mug and reaching for his hand across the kitchen table. "Are you all right?"

"Are you?" he asked, avoiding the question as he so often did. She sighed.

"Mentally or physically?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow.

"Both."

"Physically I'm fine, just bruised. Never been choked before." She smiled wanly at her poor attempt at humor. Ianto nodded in agreement.

"I've never been trussed up and tenderized for dinner before," Ianto offered. "First time for everything."

"And hopefully the last," Tosh murmured. She picked up her mug and sipped it slowly, savoring the comforting warmth. Ianto finished his and stood.

"Ready for more?" he asked. She shook her head and watched as he poured a generous proportion of liquor into his mug, with about half as much hot chocolate from the pan on the stove. Turning to find her staring at him, he shrugged.

"Hell of a day," he said. He grabbed a tin of biscuits from a cupboard and sat down again.

"What's with your mug?" asked Tosh, taking a chocolate biscuit and dunking it. Perfection. "There must be a story there too."

He smiled, a genuine heartfelt smile that still radiated sadness to his eyes. "We collected them, Lisa and I."

"Kitchy coffee mugs?"

"Yep." He gazed at some invisible memory behind her. "She started it with a _Keep Calm and Ruck Over_ mug. It was not long after we'd started dating, and she thought it was so hysterically Welsh she couldn't resist. I think it was also a subtle dig at how much rugby I watched with some of the blokes at work."

"And it just grew from there?" she asked. He inclined his head toward one of the cupboards.

"I've still got about a dozen—I gave her _Keep Calm and Love Wales_ in return, and got _Keep Calm and Drink Tea,_ which she knew perfectly well I would never use—"

"—so of course you did," said Tosh, and he laughed.

"I did. Then it was _Keep Calm and Go Shopping, Keep Calm and Join the Dark Side—_ she loved her tea— _Keep Calm and Kiss Me._ Each one more ridiculous than the last."

"So was the Torchwood mug really your idea then?" teased Tosh. Ianto gave her a look of mock-horror.

"Of course not! I can't even fathom why we have Torchwood stamped pencils and erasers."

Tosh looked at her mug and grinned again. "Jack would love it."

Ianto snorted. "No, his mug would say _Keep Calm, I'm Captain Jack Harkness."_ His American accent was terrible, and they burst out laughing, but settled down quickly.

"He'd be right," said Tosh quietly. "He saved our lives." She glanced up and reached for Ianto's hand. "After you saved mine."

Ianto shook his head. "I didn't do anything. I just wanted you to get away, to be safe."

"Thank you," she whispered, the words choking in her throat. "I don't know what would have happened if you…if I…"

He stood quickly and came around the table to pull her into a warm embrace. "Don't think about it," he said. "It's over, we're here, we're safe. All right? Just don't think about it, because I don't want to think about it ever again.

She swallowed thickly and stepped back with a watery smile. " _Keep Calm and Repress Everything_?"

He nodded as he wiped a tear away then turned back toward the counter. "Exactly. I'll get you a mug. Ready for a second?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she said. "And Ianto…thank you."

"You're welcome, Tosh."

She sat down, looking forward to her next mug and determined to do exactly as Ianto said, at least for one night.


	7. Gin and Tonic

7\. Gin and Tonic

Jack stared at the young man gazing out across the bay, standing alone in the darkness. He'd just sent Tosh home after allowing her the chance to decide the fate of the pendant. And though he was surprised she'd chosen to destroy it, he was also fiercely proud that she had recognized the danger of keeping it. Gazing at Ianto, head down and shoulders hunched over the railing, he almost wished he had the pendant now so he could understand how to help the man before him.

A board on the quay squeaked beneath him, and Ianto's shoulders tensed. He did not move as Jack came to stand next to him.

"She sent you, didn't she," Ianto stated bluntly, and Jack nodded, though Ianto didn't turn to look at him. "Look, I told her I'm fine and I am, I don't need the company pep talk—"

"We have a company pep talk?" Jack asked with exaggerated surprise. "And here I've been making them up! Where can I get a copy?"

Ianto's head fell a bit, but Jack was fairly sure the man was hiding a smile, and probably rolling his eyes as well. Jack took a deep breath and continued more seriously.

"She didn't tell me what she heard from you," Jack said, and that earned a look of patented skepticism. "She did tell me she was concerned, however. About you, about me, about Gwen and Owen—"

Ianto snorted in derision. "I hope you're aware of how poorly they handled themselves when she left the conference room." When Jack didn't answer, Ianto turned to him, eyes flashing with anger. "They didn't even bother to ask how she was doing, to offer their condolences. They just wanted to know what she heard from them, and could she keep it secret? Heartless bastards."

Jack nodded. That explained the distinct chill he'd felt in the Hub before everyone had gone their separate ways. Though it appeared Gwen and Owen's ways were not that separate anymore. He wasn't sure what to do about that situation, however, and decided to concentrate on the reason he'd come outside in the first place.

"How are you, Ianto?" he asked quietly, hoping for an honest answer.

"I'm…" The Welshman seemed to think about it. "I'm coping. I'm here, and sometimes I have good days, sometimes I have bad days."

Jack was both relieved and saddened by the answer. He wanted to reach out and pull Ianto into an embrace and assure him that the good would outnumber the bad some day, but Ianto was tense beside him, gazing out across the water again.

"What's your poison?" Jack asked abruptly, thinking he'd have a better time of getting Ianto to talk away from the water, where the darkness and the silence were more smothering than soothing. A drink couldn't hurt either.

"What?" asked Ianto.

"Your drink. Firewater, hooch—you know, a nightcap?" he added.

Ianto stared at him for a moment before the side of his mouth quirked up. "People don't really talk like that anymore."

"I'm an old-fashioned sort of guy," Jack offered. Ianto nodded, and Jack could almost see the wheels of sarcasm turning in the man's mind.

"Because the World War II greatcoat didn't even come close to giving that away."

"Hey, it's classic, like me," said Jack. This time Ianto definitely rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine, sir," he said. "Like I said, I don't need the pep talk."

"Then I won't make one up," said Jack. "But I feel like a good gin and tonic is in order. I've got a bottle of Tanqueray in my office if you'd rather stay in."

Ianto turned and frowned. Jack spoke again before Ianto could offer any protests. "I'm not asking for anything, just if you want a drink. Some company. Talk, or listen, or shout at the world until your hoarse, it's up to you." He stopped short of saying please, though he almost felt like begging. For some reason he really wanted Ianto to say yes. Jack had always enjoyed Ianto's company, and he missed the easy banter and flirting from Ianto's first few months at the Hub. But more than anything, he wanted to reassure himself that Ianto was as fine as he claimed.

It wouldn't be easy. Ianto was a private and stubborn man, and there was a good chance he might read Jack the riot act for his actions that night. And Ianto would be right. Jack knew perfectly well he had done the right thing in the wrong way. Maybe he needed to confess it to someone. He inclined his head toward the tourist office.

Ianto blew out a breath and slowly nodded. "I prefer mine with lemon."

Jack laughed and led the way. "Then I hope we have a lot of lemons."


	8. Water

8\. Water

Owen stumbled into the Hub, swearing under his breath as he tripped and almost fell on the stairs. He contemplated collapsing on the sofa, but he was there for a reason, and he was determined to see it through.

When he remembered what the hell he was doing there.

Throwing himself down on the sofa after all, he let his arm fall across his eyes as he muttered under his breath. Damn Suzie Costello for dying again. Because naturally he'd gone out to get drunk and laid, but only one of those had actually happened, and now he was back at work trying to remember why he was back at work.

A sound from Jack's office made him turn his head, though he didn't bother opening his eyes. Of course Jack was still here. Maybe he was drinking too. Ianto'd told him that Jack had got completely pissed in his office the first time Suzie had died. Owen snorted to himself; only in Torchwood could a coworker die more than once and require a second drunken mourning period.

The sound of a throat being cleared forced him to open his eyes. Jack stood there, though he looked sober. He also looked…well, thoroughly shagged. Trousers loose around his hips without braces or belt, an untucked undershirt obviously pulled over his head too quickly leaving his hair a rumpled mess. Oh, and the rather obvious love bite just to the right of his Adam's apple. Christ, Owen had interrupted Jack on the pull. But he wouldn't have brought a civilian back to the Hub even if he was upset over Suzie's death, so apparently Jack had got lucky and was done for the night, unlike Owen who had stumbled back to work without getting shagged, all for some reason he couldn't even remember.

"Whatcha doing back, Owen?" Jack asked, hands tucked into his pockets. Owen groaned as he sat up. He motioned a limp hand at his boss.

"I'm not quite sure," he said, "but I was definitely not expecting anyone else to be here. Looking like that." He waved his hands about some more. Jack grinned.

"Like what, exactly?"

"You pulled tonight," Owen said, standing and pointing a finger. "Didn't you?"

Jack's eyes flashed before he offered a very forced shrug. "Might have done, yeah. You?"

"No, I think that's why I came back." Jack raised an eyebrow and grinned again. Owen made a retching noise. "God, not like that _._ I was working on this cute blonde, when all of a sudden it hit me: Suzie is dead. One of my coworkers died, came back to life, and died again." He laughed bitterly. "I think I came back to do her autopsy just to make sure. How fucked up is that?"

Jack's face softened in that way he had of expressing pity for the mere underlings beneath him. Owen knew perfectly well Jack was _different_ , but didn't the man feel things like the rest of them? Was he bothered at all by shooting Suzie over and over or had he mourned her enough the first time? Was it easy for him to go out and get laid and forget about it?

"It's not you," Jack said quietly, his voice laced with pain and putting Owen's thoughts to rest. Yes, Jack felt it, he mourned. "It's the job. Go home, take time to mourn her…again…and come in when you're ready. She doesn't need an autopsy."

"Death by Torchwood?" asked Owen, and Jack nodded sadly.

"Death by Torchwood," he echoed. They stood quietly before Owen shook off the moment.

"Right. I'm going home and coming in when I'm ready, just like you said." He turned to leave, but Jack stopped him and tossed over a bottle of water from the refrigerator in the kitchenette.

"Drink that and call a cab," he said, turning away. Owen stood and watched as Jack grabbed two more bottles of water and some leftovers from the fridge before heading back toward his office.

"So how'd you score?" Owen called. Jack turned and smirked.

"Tall, dark, and handsome with a nice pert ass…" He trailed off, apparently remembering it fondly. Owen rolled his eyes.

"Playing for the other team tonight, then?" he asked. It was no surprise, though none of them knew for sure which side Jack preferred. Jack wagged his eyebrows.

"And it was a great game," he said. "Good night, Owen. Drink that water."

Owen snorted and left the Hub. Popping open the water in the lift, he contemplated returning to the pub and finding that blonde again. If Jack could get laid, so could he. Except deep down he didn't want to lose himself with some nameless shag. Obviously a drunken autopsy was not a good idea, so perhaps he'd go home, crack open a bottle of whisky and lose himself that way.


	9. Cosmopolitan

Author's Note:  
This was written by the lovely Taamar! More notes at the end. Enjoy!

* * *

9\. Cosmopolitan

It was the first night Tosh had off in a week, and she'd gone to the bar where she'd first met Mary. It was a weeknight and the place wasn't crowded. Tosh preferred it that way; she could sip her Cosmopolitan in peace and watch the few patrons and think. She was considering the pair of girls in the corner (girlfriends or _girlfriends_?) when she heard someone sit next to her. Gwen. Tosh sighed. So much for her night away from work.

"Weird today, wasn't it?" Gwen began.

"Hmm? Oh, the boy. I suppose. I wasn't really paying attention, to be honest." Gwen had got stuck on the death of a civilian, and while the rest of the team was going about their _actual_ job, she had been working on her so-called 'case', which was only connected to Torchwood in the most peripheral of ways. Gwen was like that, her heart so big she cared about everyone. Then Tosh remembered what she had heard from Gwen when she'd been wearing the pendant, and her lips thinned.

While Tosh was thinking about the other women's harsh inner thoughts, Gwen ordered a cosmo of her own and kept talking. "And then he was _there._ Pushed me out of the way to save my life. Isn't it amazing?"

"Look, I don't have many nights off, and I'm sort of here to get away from work. Can we not talk about this?"

Gwen's face fell. It was like kicking a puppy. Tosh didn't dislike Gwen, not exactly, but they really had nothing in common except work. Still, as the only two women on the team, maybe Tosh should try harder to connect.

"Talk about something else, maybe?" she offered. "Something random? Like shoes?"

"I liked your boots the other day," Gwen said, her bright, open smile returning.

Not the most auspicious of beginnings, since those had been the boots Tosh had worn with her jeans tucked in the morning she had been listening to everyone's thoughts. _It's nothing_ , she told herself, _we all think unkind things. It's not like she says them out loud._

"Thanks," she said. Tosh had never had many friends, but Gwen Cooper was reaching out to her. Maybe it was time to try something new.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to write a drabble for Random Shoes because to be honest, I'm a terrible TW fan and never finished watching it! But my brilliant and amazing beta stepped up and wrote one so the set is complete! Kudos and Applause for Taamar, please, who suggested a Gwen/Tosh drabble and wrote a lovely moment for them. Thank you! She's also throwing some great ideas at me for the next few as I was getting a bit stuck and not sure who I wanted to go with. The next one is quite a bit longer than all the others, so I hope you enjoy it. And the one after that was all her idea and a brilliant one at that so I hope you love it as much as I do. Thank you for reading!


	10. Eggnog

10\. Eggnog

"Here, have another glass," Johnny said, pouring over Ianto's protests. He grimaced. The wine was cheap and weak, a far cry from his normal tastes and ill-paired with the roast turkey Rhiannon had served for Christmas dinner. Still, it might help him relax and enjoy the day a bit more. He was uncomfortable with a family he hadn't seen for months and tense from everything that had happened at work, and though he had begged off the details with his sister, he knew she was concerned. Yet he couldn't tell her that he worked for a secret organization that protected the planet from aliens, that a trio of travelers from 1953 had appeared, and that his boss had helped one of them commit suicide while another flew into a rift in space and time and one—thank god!—went to London to pursue a career in fashion.

Ianto had never felt as isolated as he did then, which was why he'd avoided his sister since returning to Cardiff. He couldn't even tell her about Lisa's death—about her pain and suffering, Ianto's desperate bid to save her, and his horrific betrayal of people he'd come to like and even respect. Everything had to remain buried, secrets he could never, ever share. Sometimes he hated it; sometimes he hated it enough to seriously consider Retconning out of Torchwood. And then he'd think about the good times with Lisa, or how he'd helped save the world with Torchwood, or what a normal life back on the estates would be like, and he knew he never could. So he had another glass, listened to Johnny's obnoxious stories, listened to the kids prattle on about one thing or another, all while his sister watched him like a hawk, waiting for her chance.

She cornered him after dessert. The pudding had been exceptionally good, and between the wine and the chocolate he was almost starting to relax and feel like a normal human being living a normal life. When she offered him a large glass of eggnog, he knew he was done for. It had been a cherished family tradition, something their grandmother had made and served year after year. He'd loved it and missed it and she knew it, and when she inclined her head back toward the kitchen, he had no choice but to follow.

He had to give her credit, she knew how to work the situation. She started the conversation with idle talk about Johnny and the kids and friends they'd grown up with on the estate, then filled his glass again and nailed him.

"So what's really going on with you?" she asked. "You're quiet, tense, distant. You've lost weight. I had hoped coming back to Cardiff would help after what happened in London."

Ianto snorted to himself. Right. Because Torchwood Cardiff was so much easier than Torchwood London. In fact it was harder—a smaller team, more work, more secrets, and the damn Rift dropping Weevils on them every week to top it off. But he couldn't tell her that. She thought he'd left London because of the terrorist attack at Canary Wharf.

"My car was stolen last night," he said instead. "Bloke committed suicide in it." Which was true and perfectly believable, as long as he left out the part about John Ellis falling through a rift in time fifty years after he had apparently died in a plane crash.

Rhiannon's eyes widened and even though his glass was still half full, she poured him more eggnog. "I'm so sorry. What are you going to do?"

Ianto shrugged and took a long sip of his drink; it was surprisingly good, or maybe it just felt good to tell his sister something that wasn't an outright lie. "My boss said he'd replace it."

Her eyebrows flew up even higher. "You must have a nice boss," she said. Ianto shook his head, biting back the bitter laughter threatening to burst forth.

"Not really," he told her. "It was stolen at work."

"Still, to replace your car? That's something."

"He's trying to buy my silence," Ianto replied, though he wasn't sure if he believed it. Jack had seemed honestly upset about the situation with Ianto's car, genuinely regretting his part in it.

Rhiannon studied him, finished her drink, and poured them both more. "Maybe you need a new job. You don't seem happy with this one."

"It's all I have," Ianto said wearily.

"Ianto Jones, you're smart, talented, and good-looking!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "You could get any job you want. Why stay with the tourist board if you're so unhappy?"

"It's not the job," Ianto sighed. Only sometimes it was, when he had to log a body into the morgue, create a cover story, Retcon a witness, shoot an alien.

"Is it your boss?" she asked. "Is he a real tosser?"

He shook his head. "Not always." Not in bed, that was for sure. Only when he kept secrets, especially about things like time travel and carbon monoxide poisoning.

"Ianto," she started. He stopped her.

"Look, I know I've been-" He stopped when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't want to answer it, but he knew well enough that anything could happen with Torchwood, and considering London's track record on Christmas, it was entirely possible that he might be needed to save the world.

It was a text message from Jack.

_Are you busy? I'd like to talk about last night._

Ianto rolled his eyes and stood. "Excuse me," he said. "It's him."

"Your boss?" Rhiannon asked with a frown. "Why would he be calling on Christmas?"

"It's about the car," Ianto said. "I'm sorry, I should take this." He stepped out of the kitchen through the back door to reply.

_There's nothing to talk about. I'll let you know when I find a new car._

Jack replied almost immediately.

_Not about the car. About me._

Ianto felt irrationally angry, annoyed that Jack would interrupt a holiday to talk about himself. Of course he would. And then he'd probably want a quick shag after. With shaking hands, Ianto replied.

_It's Christmas. I'm with my family. And I don't need to hear more stories._

Because that's all he ever got from Jack, story after story. It was all any of them got, and there were so many no one knew what was true and what wasn't. Jack had even spun one last night about John Ellis and the car and his own part in it all. Ianto didn't want to hear more stories, he wanted the truth.

Once again Jack replied immediately.

_I'm sorry to interrupt. I just want to tell you what really happened last night._

What really happened…Ianto took a deep breath. He'd suspected there was more to it than John committing suicide in his car, Jack finding him and pulling him out. Jack had smelled so strongly of carbon monoxide fumes, had been so pale and red-eyed, so tired and listless and upset. Yet he had completely dismissed Ianto's concern. It had been obvious from the moment the plane landed that Jack had sympathized with John Ellis, a man out of his time; was it because Jack was out of his time as well? Did he want to die too? He was certainly different, Ianto had seen enough in the archives to know that. Jack had secrets. Was he really going to share them with Ianto? Did he want to know?

_I've had some eggnog, I should be back at the Hub around 8._

_I can pick you up._

_I hired a car. I'll be back later._

_Thank you._

The lack of innuendo was telling. Ianto wondered if Jack was serious about talking and not shagging. He wanted to be there for Jack, as Jack had been there for him, but found himself doubting Jack's sincerity given how infrequently the man revealed anything about himself. Jack shared so little, why would he share anything with Ianto now?

There was only one way to find out, and that was to go to the Hub and meet with Jack. At least he'd escape the third-degree from his sister, and maybe learn something real about his enigmatic boss.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thank you to Taamar for the idea behind this one! I'd already started a bit with Ianto at his sister's house, but she pushed me to continue it. I had originally planned on doing Tosh and Ianto again as they were the two who didn't have a time traveler to watch, but that wasn't as inspiring. I really wonder how Ianto responded to John's death and Jack's part in it, so this is one look at it. He's confused and not upset about Jack's health as much as he is upset about Jack's secrets at this point. Because if Ianto saw Jack that night, he'd know something was going on for sure! It's a bit longer than a drabble, so I hope you enjoy the extra length. I'm looking forward to sharing the next, written exclusively for Taamar because she's so awesome. Go read some of her stories and you'll see! Thanks for reading!


	11. Brandy

11\. Brandy

Gwen scribbled furiously at the paper she was filling out, desperately trying to finish her work so she could go home to Rhys. She needed to see him, to reassure herself that he was all right, that he was alive and well and not furious with her. She swiped at a tear as she remembered the conversation he'd never know. It was over. She'd done it and she'd have to live with it. The paper blurred, and she stopped to take a deep breath.

"He'll be all right," Ianto said, suddenly appearing next to her. He set down two glasses and a bottle of brandy and began to pour without even asking if she wanted one.

"I know," Gwen said, quickly setting aside her papers and accepting the glass. "Jack said his injuries weren't serious, so he should be home tomorrow."

Ianto studied her over his glass. "I meant Rhys Williams," he finally replied. Gwen almost choked on the brandy, the liquor burning her throat as she set the glass down and covered her mouth.

"Sorry," she mumbled, then sat up straighter and frowned. "What do you mean about Rhys?"

Ianto took another sip and motioned at her glass. She tried again and found it strong, almost too strong. Then again, maybe she needed it if the knowing look on his face was anything to go by.

"The Retcon," he said. "The sedative. Torchwood has been using it for years, and in spite of Suzie's misuse with Max, it is quite safe. Rhys won't remember anything. He won't even remember that you drugged him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gwen said. But her heart was pounding because he knew, how did he know? Did everyone know? Did _Jack_ know?

"I know you do, Gwen," Ianto said, and he sounded sad, maybe reluctant. "I know you took some Retcon. I know you gave it to Rhys. I know your affair with Owen is over so I assume you told him and that he didn't take it well."

Gwen's hands were suddenly shaking so badly she couldn't hold her glass anymore. She thought she would shatter into a million pieces with it, all over the floor. She couldn't speak, could barely breathe. Ianto took the glass and set it down, turned his own around in his hands a few times waiting for her to reply.

"How?" she whispered. He shrugged one shoulder.

"I know everything," he said. "And I know why you did it. Torchwood does things to you." He laughed bitterly and finished his glass, held up hers. She knocked it back in one go and he poured them both another. "I also know what it's like to make mistakes. So I thought I tell you that I fudged the paperwork, deleted the CCTV footage. No one else will ever know."

"Not even Jack?" she asked, dreading the answer. Ianto sighed sadly.

"Especially not Jack," he said. "He needs to believe someone here is untouched, unbroken. And you're the only one left."

Gwen laughed nervously, it was that or break down into tears. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Ianto replied. "But can I offer some advice?"

"All right," she said, uncertain of what to expect. He laid a protective hand on her knee.

"It's what Jack's been telling you since you started: don't let it drift. You are our connection to the people we're fighting for. Torchwood will try its damndest to break that connection, whether it's a case or Owen or Jack…" He trailed off with a pointed look, and Gwen had to glance away, blushing. Ianto Jones really did know everything.

"Hold on to what you have, Gwen," he said softly. "It sounds like a good thing. He can keep you sane, keep you human."

Another tear leaked out, because he was right. Ianto had never even met Rhys, but he was right. Rhys kept her grounded and sane, and she needed that in the middle of the insanity that was Torchwood most days. As she glanced at his face-sad eyes gazing unseeing into his glass-she sensed that he'd had the same thing with Lisa Hallett before she'd died. She had been Ianto's good thing, and he'd lost her. She couldn't lose Rhys, not to an affair she regretted and another that had never happened.

She squeezed his hand, and he glanced up in surprise. "Sometimes I think you're the most human of us all," she said, surprising herself with the truth of it. He shook his head and frowned.

"I'm just trying not to disappear most days," he said softly. He finished his drink and stood, holding out a hand for her. "Now, go home. See to that man of yours."

"Thank you," she said, giving him a quick embrace. "For everything."

"Just doing my job," he replied with a half-smile.

"It's much more than that," she said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He pushed her toward her desk to gather her things. "Off with you. You can finish your paperwork tomorrow."

"Words I'd never thought I'd hear!" she laughed, and he laughed with her. They shared a look, a nod, and then she left, bounding toward the door with a much lighter and wiser heart.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, if you've read The Torchwood Archives, Jack did indeed know about the missing Retcon. He suspected that Gwen took it, but he hoped she learned her lesson and didn't push it. I absolutely think Ianto would cover for her to protect Jack, though. Which makes me sort of want to write a sequel, where Jack somehow figures it out and confronts Ianto. It wouldn't go here but could be a stand alone. We'll see! Many many thanks to Taamar for suggesting this alternative to Jack and Owen or something equally predictable. Almost done with series one! Thank you for reading!


	12. Whisky

12\. Whisky

Jack took a sip from his favorite coffee mug and held back the impulse to throw it across the Hub. Everyone had left and he'd tried to make himself a cup of coffee, just like he'd watched Ianto do many times, admiring the man's deft fingers as he prepared the heavenly brew that kept the team going. Yet Jack had not only managed to spill the grounds and burn his thumb, but it was quite possible he'd broken the machine altogether. And his coffee tasted like bilge water.

Maybe he deserved it. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He only knew it was about more than him and Tosh being trapped in 1941, or Ianto shooting Owen in the shoulder. Something had shifted both within him and around him since he'd returned, but Jack wasn't sure what it was. He felt unsettled, uncertain, and anxious. Taking his poor attempt at coffee back to his office, he added a generous shot of whiskey from the liquor cabinet. It was marginally better, and maybe it would help settle his mind.

Reading over the reports Owen and Ianto had left on his desk before leaving for the night, Jack sighed. It was not good. He ran a hand over Ianto's handgun, tagged and turned in despite Jack's protests. Protocol, Ianto had replied curtly, before turning away without another word. Tosh had stopped him on the way out, but Ianto had shook his head and left. He'd been understandably upset about the incident with Owen, but now Jack wondered if there was more to it. If it was something to do with him.

He pulled up the CCTV footage from earlier in the day and watched Owen and Ianto arguing…Ianto trying so hard to convince Owen to follow their standing orders regarding the Rift, Owen protesting over and over. Owen hit him, kicked him, and left him gasping on the ground…and yet Ianto still stood up and pulled out his gun, threatening to shoot in order to stop the doctor. Owen laughed, called Ianto…wait, what? Jack rewound the footage and tried not to flinch…

_You have to let Diane go. Like I did with Lisa.  
_  
_Don't compare yourself to me. You're just a tea boy._

_I'm much more than that. Jack needs me._

_In your dreams, Ianto. In your sad wet dreams when you're his part-time shag, maybe._

Sad wet dreams. Part-time shag. Jack gagged on his drink, spitting it into the rubbish bin as he stood and started pacing. There had been nothing in either man's report about that particular exchange. Owen had hurled cruel words at Ianto, who had stood strong against them, determined to stop the doctor at any cost because it was what Jack would have done, what Jack had ordered them to do from day one: never open the Rift.

And what had Jack been doing while Ianto had been kicked and insulted at the Hub? He'd been in a 1941 dance hall falling halfway in love with a doomed man he'd just met. Dancing, kissing, and not thinking about anything else, anyone else, not thinking about Ianto. Part-time shag.

Grabbing the whisky bottle, Jack slugged it down so fast he choked, then lashed out at his desk with a curse. How could he have been so stupid, so blind? He'd been sleeping with Ianto for months and genuinely cared about him, yet at the first sign of a pretty face in a World War II uniform he'd forgotten all about Ianto Jones. A man who was so fiercely loyal to Torchwood and to Jack that he'd shot a coworker to stop Owen from opening the Rift and unleashing a potentially devastating threat to the world.

_He would have abandoned us there,_ Jack told himself. _And I would have had to live through it all over again to get back to this time, this moment._

And Ianto would have been right, because he understood the consequences of opening the Rift. Unlike Owen, Ianto had seen the bigger picture, the need for sacrifice. He'd been willing and able to make the hard choice-to save the world over saving his coworkers-while Owen had been so wrapped up in his grief over Diane that he'd put the entire world at risk by fully opening the Rift.

Looking back over the report Ianto had turned in, Jack could read between the lines now and see the deep regret and guilt that Ianto felt, bleeding through every word, every sentence. It was a messy, emotional report, very much out of character for their normally unflappable general administrator. But this had rattled Ianto, so much that he'd turned in his gun and left without a word. Jack half-wondered if Ianto would return in the morning.

Jack knew he was a bastard and a heel of the biggest sort. He'd always been, but for the first time in many years he felt it keenly and regretted it deeply. He'd abandoned any thought of what he was doing with Ianto within moments of finding himself trapped in 1941… _Is Toshiko your woman? No. There's no one._

No one. He'd told the real Jack Harkness there was no one, but there was. Ianto had been back at the Hub, Jack's home, fighting for him the entire time. Jack had let himself get lost in the glamour and the tragedy of the war, losing hope so quickly he'd latched onto the first thing he could to stay grounded, his namesake. He felt nothing but shame and remorse.

After a few more shots of whisky he picked up his phone and texted Ianto. He needed to do something, say something. Fix it. He only hoped he could.

_Owen was wrong._

Ianto was slower to answer than usual.

_I knew I should have deleted the footage._

_You're not my part-time shag._

_Just the most convenient one given we live in the same century._

Jack swore; Ianto _knew._ Somehow he knew about the original Captain Jack Harkness, and in spite of their open, unspoken arrangement, Ianto was angry. Jack couldn't blame him. It had little to do with commitment and everything to do with Ianto putting it on all the line with Owen while Jack flounced around 1941 shoving his tongue down someone else's throat. God, even Jack could see how wrong that was, by any century's standards.

_That's not true,_ he replied. _You're more than that._

The reply was quick.

_I don't believe you. Not this time, not anymore._

Jack felt his stomach drop. He had no idea what to do to fix things with Ianto, but he had to try, just as he'd reached out after Lisa Hallett had died. He didn't want to hurt the man any more; Ianto deserved so much better.

_Can we talk?_

_We have more important things to worry about, Jack. Like the Rift._

_I'm worried about you. About us._

_Don' t be._ Jack had never thought two words could cut so deep. _There is no us._

Which was when Jack realized how badly he'd screwed up. They'd fallen into bed together with one condition: that it was and would remain casual. Yet Jack felt such guilt, such loss at that moment that he knew it was more, at least for him. Ianto's words hurt, and Jack didn't want it to end this way; he didn't want it to end at all. Ianto had become his rock, had been there for him for months now, even after the debacle with John Ellis, when Ianto had been so angry with Jack's secrets. And now, with one devastating shot, he had proven his loyalty only to be betrayed by Jack.

Jack decided right then and there that he would prove himself. As the leader of Torchwood, as a good man, and as someone worthy of Ianto Jones's loyalty and love.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one inspired by Taamar, thank you very much! In spite of all the hype about this episode being groundbreaking and romantic, I get the impression (years later) from around here and Tumblr that fans don't think much of it anymore, aside from some BAMF Ianto, who also looks great in purple. At the time it aired it probably was groundbreaking and romantic, but that kiss between Jack and Ianto in the very next episode immediately puts this one into a new perspective, and then you get more Jack and Ianto development in series 2 and 3 that really makes you wonder just what was going through both the writers' and the characters' minds with this adventure. I've addressed it before (in Quite a List) but that was from Ianto's POV and in a different context - they weren't sleeping together yet. This time it's Jack's POV, and I do hope he felt badly. I'm not making some grand statement on monogamy, but the fact that Ianto was fighting so hard for Jack while Jack was, as he put it above, sticking his tongue down someone else's throat. Not cool. And I have one other idea I hope to write someday that plays less with Jack's guilt and more with Ianto's. Thank you for reading!


	13. Tequila

13\. Tequila

"This is shit." Owen threw down whatever he'd been attempting to pick up or repair, hands on his hips as he kicked it away and swore. "I'm leaving. Who's with me?"

"Owen, we can't just leave—" Tosh started, but he cut her off.

"If Jack can, so can we. And unlike Jack, we'll be back tomorrow, because we're not gutless bastards. So I say we go home, get pissed, get laid, whatever. But I'm not staying here."

Tosh, Gwen, and Ianto were all silent, avoiding one another's eyes. Owen huffed again. "Look, it's not like we're quitting. But Jack's fucked off to god knows where so I think we've earned a night off. Gwen, remember that boyfriend you were so gutted about a few days ago? Go see him."

Gwen's head snapped up, her eyes blazing. "Fuck you, Owen. I'll leave when I'm damn well ready."

"He's right, Gwen," Ianto said quietly. "You should go. You should all go. There's nothing else we can do tonight that we can't do tomorrow."

"You're not staying, are you?" asked Tosh, and Ianto shrugged without answering.

"He's coming with me," Owen said. "And we are going to get well and truly pissed so that we don't even remember the name Jack Harkness. Sound good?"

"Owen, someone should stay here, in case…" He trailed off at the look on Owen's face.

"In case of what? In case he shows up and shoves his tongue down your throat again?"

Ianto stepped forward, but Tosh and Gwen both grabbed an arm and held him back. "You're a real arsehole, you know that?"

"That's why you shot me, isn't it?" Owen asked. "So are you coming or not?"

"Why should I go anywhere with you?" Ianto asked, shaking off the girls.

"Because I won't ask questions. They will."

"Bullshit," he snapped. "You'll hurl names and insults instead."

"Only I was right, wasn't I?" Owen replied. "Because maybe he'd still be here if—"

He didn't get to finish as Ianto's fist smashed into his jaw and sent him reeling backwards. "Fuck off."

The girls looked confused, but Owen grinned as he rubbed his jaw. "Fine, I won't say anything. Let me know when you figure it out, though."

"Figure what out?" demanded Gwen. Ianto glared at her but did not reply, so Owen answered for him.

"Whether I was right or wrong."

"Doesn't matter," said Ianto, hands tucked into his pockets as if he were trying not to hit Owen again. "He's gone. It's just us now, so we should probably try to avoid killing each other."

"You couldn't kill me even if you—" started Owen. Tosh stopped him.

"He could and you know it, so shut up, Owen." She turned her back on him and smiled at Ianto. "Are you all right? Do you need ice?"

"Yes," grumbled Owen behind her, but everyone ignored him. Ianto smiled at Tosh and pulled her into an embrace.

"I'm fine," he murmured. "Go home, get some rest. We've a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"You do the same," she said. "Don't stay here, Ianto," she added under her breath. "Get away, go home. It's not worth it to stay."

He nodded and stepped back. To his surprise, Gwen moved forward and hugged him as well. He felt her trembling and frowned. "You okay?" he asked, and she glanced up at him, eyes wide.

"He's really gone this time, isn't he?" she whispered. He nodded; there was no reason to deny what they all knew was true.

"Go home to Rhys, Gwen," he said, turning her toward Tosh and the door. "Go home and remember why he's alive."

"You're leaving too?" she asked.

"We'll be right behind you," he told her. She glared at Owen before walking out with Tosh. Ianto watched them leave before turning back to the doctor.

"Fuckwit."

"Twat."

"You're buying."

Owen grinned. "All night. Can you keep up?"

Ianto rolled his eyes in reply, then walked over to a computer and began to shut down the Hub. He glanced once toward Jack's office before turning back to Owen. "I'm Welsh, I can drink you under the table. What'll it be then?"

"Whatever they have," Owen answered. Ianto let his head fall as he laughed through his nose.

"You really are a bloody pillock, you know. You're the last person I should be drinking with."

"And you're an uptight prick. We should be able to put down a lot between us."

Ianto led the way toward the cog door. "No questions," he warned. "Or I might end up shooting you again."

"Trust me, I don't want to know," Owen muttered. Ianto snorted. Owen elbowed him as the door wheeled open.

"Was it worth it, though?"

Ianto smirked. "Oh yeah."

"Ready to forget it ever happened?"

"Definitely," Ianto replied. Owen slung an arm around his shoulder as they entered the lift.

"Then I propose a round of tequila to start," he said, and continued planning the rest of their rounds as they left the Hub behind. Jack was gone, and it was time to move on.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here ends series 1! I hope you enjoyed those, I really enjoyed writing in the shorter format. I'm going to take a short break before series 2 and work on some other stories. If they don't cooperate, then I'll start on series 2 since it's all planned out. But I've started several other things I'd like to work on now, so look for more alcoholic drabbles in a few weeks! Thank you!


	14. Margaritas

14\. Margaritas

"Cheers!" said Tosh, sipping her margarita. It was strong, but much needed after everything that had happened since Jack's unexpected return. She shivered before taking another sip, and Owen rolled his eyes at her reaction.

"Bottoms up!" He drank half the glass in one go before looking pointedly at Gwen. The other woman appeared troubled.

"Shouldn't we be doing something?" she asked. "Talking to Jack, finding out what happened, where he went, why he left?" She sipped at her drink. "Oh, that's really good."

"That's right, it's good," said Owen with a nod. "And we can get as many as we want, the tab's on Jack. So forget about him and enjoy yourself. We've got twelve hours until we catch up with ourselves, and we may as well make the most of it."

"But where's Jack?" she asked. "Why isn't he here with us? Shouldn't we all be together?"

Tosh took another sip of her drink. "He's around, I'm sure." A glance at Owen told her he was thinking the same thing that she was, although he was probably thinking rude things about it.

"Yeah, celebrating in his own way," Owen snorted. He finished his drink and motioned for another. "Stupid bastard."

"Owen!" Tosh said. "Don't."

"Don't what?" groused Owen. "I didn't say a word."

"And you don't need to. He knows what he's doing." Tosh wasn't quite sure of her words, but she wasn't going to let Owen walk all over her friend.

"Who?" asked Gwen. "Jack?" She frowned. "What do you mean, he knows what he's doing? What's Jack doing?"

"Probably Ianto," Owen snorted, and Tosh glared at him until he stopped laughing. Gwen glanced back and forth between them.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, then glanced around, as if noticing for the first time that two team members were missing. "And where is Ianto?"

Owen gave her a pointed look before jerking his thumb toward the upper floors, and Gwen rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Owen. Ianto's not going to jump into bed with Jack just like that." She paused and finished her drink rather quickly. "Would he?"

"Wouldn't you, if you had the chance?" Owen asked with a smirk. "Half of Cardiff has probably been waiting for him to return."

"Owen!" Gwen gasped, sounding honestly shocked.

"It's true, though, isn't it?" he replied. "And since they're the only two missing, I'd say it's pretty damn likely that Jack is probably in his room, buried deep inside our teaboy."

"Stop it," said Tosh. "It's none of our business, and I doubt that's what they're doing anyway. They're probably only talking."

Owen started on his next drink, heedless of the injury to his side. "Yeah, right. About how we betrayed him, or why Jack left? Oh wait—he left because we betrayed him."

"He left with the Doctor," Tosh said quietly. "We've known that for months, Owen. The Doctor arrived, and Jack ran after him before he left. He said he wanted answers."

"Perfect timing, though wasn't it?" Owen said. "I can't blame him for running off, not after what we did. What I can't figure out is why he came back."

"He said he came back for us," Gwen pointed out. Tosh shook her head over the unsaid implication behind Gwen's words.

"And he said it to Ianto first," she reminded them. "Which is why they're probably talking about it. He was looking right at Ianto, and he sounded sincere."

Gwen made noise of disbelief, then looked at Owen in surprise when he apparently didn't agree.

"You don't believe her, do you?" Gwen asked. "That Jack came back for Ianto? That he's with Ianto right now?"

"Oh, I'm sure Jack's with Ianto right now," Owen replied. "He was practically begging Ianto to talk to him, though teaboy did not look exactly happy about it."

"He's probably confused," said Tosh.

"About what?" asked Gwen. "Whether or not he's—" She cut herself off, biting her lip.

"About whether Jack meant what he said," Tosh replied. Gwen shook her head.

"Jack told me the same thing," she said. "Downstairs by the Weevil cells."

Tosh frowned, wondering what that meant, but Owen rolled his eyes dismissively. "Like he'd come back for you to push him around, call out his leadership, and question everything he does."

"I was in charge of the team while he was gone!" Gwen exclaimed. "I have every right to…to…"

"To what, Gwen?" asked Tosh. "To keep leading the team now that the official and far more experienced leader of Torchwood Three is back? And for the record, you didn't lead the team while Jack was gone. You lead the team on some assignments, like the blowfish, and Owen lead us on others."

"And teaboy ran the whole fucking show behind our backs," Owen muttered, earning surprised looks from both of them. "What? You both know he's saved our arses more times that we probably count, administratively speaking. We'd be up to our eyeballs in paperwork, surrounded by rubbish, and fending off asinine bureaucrats on an hourly basis if it weren't for him."

"Of course we would," said Tosh. "I'm surprised to hear you say it."

Owen finished his second drink and pointed a finger at her. "Don't tell him I said anything." He took a long sip of water before asking for another, stronger drink.

"None of that means Ianto is upstairs with Jack right now," Gwen said.

"I think I saw them heading toward the restaurant," Tosh told them reluctantly. "Jack has a lot of explaining to do, after all."

"Exactly!" Gwen exclaimed. "So why isn't he here with us? Explaining?"

"Because he owes it to Ianto first," Tosh said.

"So he can get in his pants," Owen replied.

Gwen looked annoyed, and Tosh grew angry. "Owen! You're despicable!"

"But I'm right, aren't I?" he demanded. He turned to Gwen with a smirk. "He's going to shag his way into Ianto's good graces again, and that drives you mad, doesn't it?"

"I..I…" Gwen stuttered. "Of course not! I feel bad for Ianto, letting Jack use him like that."

"I bet you'd love to let him use you like—"

Gwen's hand flew across the table and smacked Owen hard across the face. Tosh gasped, but Owen laughed as he held a hand up to his cheek.

"The truth hurts, sweetheart, but here's some more: it'll never happen."

"The thing with Ianto?" Gwen scoffed. "Of course not. Ianto's not his type."

"Neither are you," said Owen. Before Gwen could open her mouth, Tosh jumped in.

"I think it could happen with Ianto," she said, earning yet another eye roll from Owen and a glare from Gwen. "Ianto supports Jack more than any of us. He's probably listening to Jack right now, and he's not yelling at him, questioning him, or demanding answers. He's listening, understanding, accepting. And he'll forgive Jack too, because Jack forgave him. He believes in Jack."

"So do we!" Gwen said. "That's not Ianto's job. We all do that for Jack." Tosh shook her head, thinking of how little Gwen seemed to believe in Jack at times, to really trust him, but Owen spoke first.

"No, me and you just piss him off," Owen said, nodding in agreement. "I think Tosh might be right, though I still feel sorry for Ianto."

"It could be good for him," Tosh said. "He needs to be needed, wants to be wanted."

"We all want to be wanted, Tosh," Gwen said. Tosh ignored her.

"Jack needs someone to be there for him, and he wants Ianto. It's as simple as that."

"It's fucked up, is what it is," said Owen, and this time Gwen agreed with the doctor.

"Look, whatever it is," said Tosh, "it's none of our business. Ianto knows what he's doing. If anything happens, then I hope it works out."

"This time," Owen snorted. "As long as he doesn't settle for being a part-time shag again."

"I didn't know you cared," said Tosh.

"I don't," he snapped. "But I do think he deserves better, believe it or not."

"Better than Jack?" Gwen asked.

"Better than Jack using him for a quick and easy shag in the archives," Owen replied. He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. "Ianto's a good bloke who's been through a lot, that's all."

"Maybe we should talk to him," Gwen said, though she sounded uncertain. "To Ianto."

"I think you're the last person to talk to him about Jack," said Owen.

"Fuck you, Owen," Gwen said, but she sounded tired of the argument now.

"Been there, done that," Owen grinned. "I'm done with that life. New leaf and all that."

"Right," Gwen replied skeptically. She sighed, finished her drink, and stood up. "I'm going to find Jack. He owes all of us an explanation, not only Ianto."

"Gwen, leave him alone," Owen said wearily. "Have another drink, get a massage, whatever. Jack's made his choice. It's up to Ianto now."

Gwen stared at him for so long Tosh wasn't sure what to say or do. Finally, Gwen simply turned and left the bar. Tosh sighed and had another drink.

"How's your side?" she asked quietly. Owen grinned.

"Painkillers and alcohol? I can't feel a damn thing. How's your face?"

"Better, thanks. Do you think she's going to do anything rash?" she asked. Owen's grin disappeared immediately.

"I don't know. But you know what? If she does…I think Ianto can handle it just fine."

Tosh shook her head in amazement. "You do like him, I knew it!"

"I respect his ability to take her out with a single, well-aimed shot of biting sarcasm. He's had a lot of practice these last few months, and I only wish I could be there to see it."

She held up her glass for another toast. "To Torchwood," she said. "Messed up on every level."

"You never know Tosh," said Owen. "Maybe things will work out for Jack and Ianto…maybe it'll work out for all of us this time."

She nodded, though she hoped he was talking about more than just Jack and Ianto. Because while she had every confidence that the two men knew what they were getting into, and that it would be a good thing for them both, it was the rest of them she sometimes worried about.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to write a short scene/drabble for each episode of the second series now, but I can't promise how frequent the updates will be. I wrote this one ages ago and have finished the next, with plans for the rest, so hopefully chapters won't be too far apart. Thank you and enjoy!


	15. Irish Coffee

 

 

2\. Irish Coffee

Gwen walked quietly through the archives, two mugs held firmly in her hand as she gazed around the dark aisles. "Ianto?" she called quietly. "Are you down here?"

"Over in row c," he replied from somewhere to her right. She moved toward the sound of his voice and turned to find him sitting on the floor in a narrow aisle, surrounded by boxes and files. He was taking notes, frowning as he tapped a pen against the clipboard he was holding.

"What's all this then?" she asked, and he glanced up, setting aside his clipboard and reaching for a large file that he began to look through.

"Research," he said without glancing up.

"Another new project?" she asked with a small smile, and he shook his head.

"Not exactly, no. It's everything Torchwood has on Cell 114." He motioned at the folders and boxes surrounding him. "Or rather, everything I could find that might be connected. Torchwood encountered them once before, back in the nineties, and Jack said there's at least one other report he filed. Other than that, I'm trying to find anything else that might be related or useful for next time they appear." He returned to the papers in his hands, shuffling through them, searching for more answers.

"Oh." Gwen shifted on her feet. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I brought some coffee if you were interested."

Glancing up in surprise, he smiled slowly. "Of course. Did I miss a scheduled dose upstairs?" he asked.

She handed him a mug. "Not at all. Tosh and Owen actually just left, and Jack is…" She trailed off, not sure what Jack was doing.

"Jack is off being Jack?" Ianto offered, taking the mug with a nod of thanks.

"Probably up on a roof somewhere," Gwen replied. When she continued standing awkwardly in the aisle, he moved a box aside and motioned at her to sit down.

"Pull up a seat," he said. "And then you can tell me what's on your mind."

She was surprised at his insight, though she shouldn't have been. Besides the fact that he was more perceptive than they often gave him credit for, she didn't often come down to the archives, let alone make him coffee; both were typically his domain.

Sitting down in the empty space, she pulled her knees up to her chest and held her mug in close, trying to stay warm on the cold floor. She thought about what to say, unsure where to begin, but Ianto beat her to it.

"I'm sorry about Beth," he said, taking a sip from his mug. He paused, a thoughtful look on his face as he swallowed. She grinned sheepishly.

"It's decaf," she said.

"It's _instant_ decaf," he said.

"That's why I added some whiskey," she told him. "I should have known you'd figure it out."

"Indeed," he murmured. "Nice kick, though. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said. "I nicked it from Jack's office." She took a sip of her own drink, swallowed a frown at the bitter taste, and continued. "And about Beth…why are you apologizing?"

He studied her for a moment. "Besides the fact that we could have taken off your head," - she tried not to laugh nervously at that - "I know you didn't want to see her dead."

"We could have saved her," said Gwen, shaking her head. This was why she had come downstairs. Owen was rubbish at talking about these things, Tosh too pragmatic. And Jack would tell her it was Beth's choice and that they had done what they had to do. But Ianto…he would know what to say, wouldn't he?

"We did save her," Ianto replied softly, watching her closely. Gwen felt a flash of anger; he was supposed to understand, to sympathize, not talk in riddles.

"You shot her!" she exclaimed. "She's not lying in the morgue waiting to be revived from cryofreeze. She's _dead_. How is that saving her?"

Ianto took another sip of his coffee, clearly trying not to grimace, then set it down and turned toward her. "We saved her sense of humanity," he said. "We let her die with dignity."

"She didn't have to die," Gwen said. "We could have frozen her, figured out a way around the implants later, sometime in the future."

He shook his head. "She would have always been a danger, Gwen. Even frozen deep underground. There was nothing stopping another cell from activating her, not really, considering how little we know about their technology. And then she'd be right here, in the middle of the Hub, armed and dangerous."

"You don't believe that," she said. "You can't possibly believe she was still a threat. She did everything she could to help us!"

"Including sacrifice herself at the end so we'd be safe," Ianto pointed out. "Gwen, she was alien. She wasn't human. You're always so fixated on what makes us human, why can't you see that?"

"Because she _was_ human!" Gwen insisted. "She had a life, a home, a husband she loved. After what she did to help us, how could you think otherwise?"

"Because she was still an alien masquerading as human," Ianto replied. "She was programmed to look and think and feel like a human, but that programming was controlled by alien technology, all for the sole purpose of destroying our planet."

"But she didn't," Gwen murmured mulishly. "She didn't destroy the planet, she tried to save it."

"Yes, she did," Ianto admitted. "That doesn't change what she was inside, though—her programming. There was nothing we could to fix that. She was programmed to infiltrate and conquer." He let his head fall back against the nearest shelf, laughing through his nose as he stared up at the ceiling. "I have some experience with that, you know."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Have you heard of Cell 114 before? At Torchwood One?"

"Never heard of them," he replied softly, still looking away. "But I did experience an invasion of aliens hell bent on converting or exterminating every living being on Earth."

She sucked in a breath, mentally kicking herself for not thinking of Ianto's past and how Beth's case might have affected him. "Ianto, I'm sorry, I—"

"You didn't see it, I know," he said. "The connection. But it's obvious now, isn't it? Cell 114 is rather like a more sophisticated version of the Cybermen. They don't need the metal plates and body armor. They look and appear normal—aliens in a human body, while the Cybermen were humans in a metal body. Yet both were wrong, not really human, created and programmed for one purpose only: total annihilation."

"Even Lisa?" she asked softly, dreading the response. His head slipped to the side to regard her sadly.

"Yes, even Lisa. I didn't see it at the time, but it didn't take long for me to understand that you saved her when you killed her. She was gone by then, taken over by the programming, and there was nothing we could have done to change that, just like Beth. She did terrible things, like Beth would have, when the programming took over. So Lisa died, and she didn't suffer anymore. Beth would have suffered, Gwen. One day."

She scooted closer to him and reached out to take the hand resting on his knee.

"I'm so sorry," she said softly, letting her head rest against his. "I didn't mean to bring up such painful memories."

"Of course you didn't," said Ianto. "But you have to understand that we can't save everyone, not in the traditional sense, not how you want to save them. Sometimes offering them an end to their pain and suffering is all we can do."

Gwen was silent as she thought about it. "I have a hard time with that," she said. "And I think I always will. I want to save everyone. That's our job."

"Our job is to save as many people as we can," Ianto said. "And by stopping Beth now, we've saved a lot of people in the future."

Gwen flinched from the truth, and he put an arm around her, pulling her close. "It sucks," he whispered. "Believe me, I know better than anyone it's a nightmare, living with the consequences of sacrifice."

"I don't know how you do it," she said.

"Keep calm and carry on," he replied with a ridiculous accent, and they chuckled. "In a way, though, it's true. Thought we may not always keep calm, but we carry on. We do what we have to do, take the risks to protect people." He smiled to himself, as if remembering something fondly.

"Fight the good fight," Gwen said.

"For the good of the many," Ianto added.

"For Queen and country!" They burst out laughing, which was how Jack found them, still giggling madly, which was certainly better than sobbing.

"Hey, why wasn't I invited to this party?" he asked, appearing at the end of the aisle, leaning against the shelves with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. "Especially if it involves tickling."

Gwen started laughing again at the affronted look on Ianto's face, though she noted with a warm feeling that he hadn't pulled away from her.

"There's no tickling here," he said. "Nothing to see. Move along."

Jack nodded slowly. "You two all right, then? Finding two employees hysterically in the archives is not usual, even around here."

"We're fine, Jack," said Gwen, sighing. Her moment with Ianto was over, and she realized she was disappointed. He'd surprised her with his insight and candor, but in the end, he had known exactly what to say. It was why she'd come down to talk to him, after all. Patting Ianto's knee, she stood and faced Jack. "Just gaining perspective."

"I could use some perspective," Jack said, sounding hopeful.

"Then you're in the right place," Gwen replied with a smile. Jack was watching Ianto, who was almost pointedly trying not to look at him as he began shuffling papers again. It occurred to her that Jack had probably come down to see Ianto, as she had, and that since she'd had her turn, it was time to go. "Thank you, Ianto," she said quietly, turning back to the Welshman. He scrambled to his feet and nodded.

"You're welcome. Thanks for the coffee."

"You barely touched it," she pointed out with a laugh. He shrugged, unapologetic.

"Take me out for a real drink sometime, then. It's a better way to wrap up a case."

"It's a date," she replied with a smile. She nodded and turned to leave, passing by Jack with another smile. "Good night," she told them both. "Don't stay late, Ianto. All that will still be here in the morning."

"I know," he said, returning to his boxes and files. "I'll leave soon."

She left them in the archives, thinking about what Ianto had said about Beth and Lisa, and how they couldn't save everyone, because sometimes saving someone meant losing them. She'd seen it time and time again at Torchwood, but it was still hard to accept, even though she knew Ianto was right. Someday, though, she would save everyone—no matter the sacrifice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to several people who helped me narrow this one down, especially Fafsernir and my amazing beta Taamar. I had a lot of ideas for this one and sort of ended up combining several. I hope you enjoyed it. I seriously thought about continuing it with Jack and Ianto, as I'd love to explore Ianto's state of mind more, but that's it for this one. Who knows, maybe it'll show up as a one-shot sometime. For now, I'm continuing with the next episode update in a few days. Thanks for reading!


	16. Guinness

16\. Guinness

Owen watched Tosh walk away, shoulders straight even as the rain soaked her through. He thought he'd come out and check on her, make sure she was okay, but Tosh was strong. She was amazing, in fact. He didn't always see it, or acknowledge it, but when he did, it almost blew his mind.

He stood at the railing, gazing at the water, thinking about Tosh and Tommy, and strangely enough, Jack and Ianto. Something was definitely going on there, too. He didn't know what, and wasn't sure if it was anything other than a randy shag here and there, but there had been looks, and touches, and he'd seen them in Jack's office, talking quietly. Ianto had seemed quiet, subdued, and almost sad, until he'd practically lunged forward to kiss Jack. And Jack had returned the kiss, taking Ianto's face in his hands and snogging the life out of him. Owen had not watched long, particularly as the two men had quickly disappeared to Jack's room, but there had been real feeling in what he'd seen. Not just lust and desire, but passion and deep affection. He wondered what they had been talking about that had led to such an encounter…and then wondered why he was even thinking about it.

It occurred to him that he may have been slightly jealous. Not that Jack was snogging the teaboy, or that Ianto was shagging the boss again, but that the two men obviously had some sort of intimate connection, someone to turn to on lonely nights. Tosh had gone home with Tommy, and Gwen was engaged to Rhys…but Owen had no one. He was alone, his life consumed by Torchwood. He'd never have whatever Jack and Ianto had, and that was too weird anyway. He'd definitely never have what Gwen had with her long-suffering fiancé. He didn't even have a frozen girlfriend to look forward to defrosting once a year. He was alone.

He was standing in the rain, feeling sorry for himself, when he felt an arm on his shoulder. It was wrapped in a grey World War II greatcoat, and he sighed, knowing one of Jack's pep talks was about begin. He wasn't sure whether to stop it before Jack started, or let it happen and wallow in it.

Jack leaned against the railing next to him, silent for a long moment.

"She'll be all right," he said, nodding to himself.

"Of course she will," Owen replied. "She's been through worse."

"She really liked him, though, and what she had to do…" Jack trailed off, sounding as if he had rare regrets.

"What she had to do sucked," Owen finished for him matter-of-factly. "But that's the nature of the job. It sucks." He was not surprised to hear the bitterness in his voice, though he hadn't expected to express it to anyone, particularly Jack.

"It's what we do," said Jack. "Save the world and all that."

"You mean, sacrifice a good man so _he_ could stop time from splintering and save the world," Owen pointed out. "We did nothing. Tosh was right, it was all Tommy."

Jack nodded. "But Tosh had to push him, persuade him."

"She sacrificed him," Owen said. "And now she has to live with it."

"She's strong," said Jack. "She'll survive."

"I know," said Owen. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Didn't know you cared," Jack murmured. Owen huffed and stood up straight.

"I'm not a total bastard," he said. "It's obvious she liked him, and no one should have to do what she did. But she did it anyway, because when it comes down to it, Tosh is pretty damn amazing."

"That she is," Jack agreed.

"I don't think I could have done it," Owen admitted. "Sent someone I cared about back in time to die. It's not fair."

"Sometimes this job isn't fair," Jack replied. "Like you said, sometimes it sucks." He gazed out at the water, much as Owen had been doing earlier. "She wanted to be alone for a while, but she'll probably need us later. Need a friend." He turned to look at Owen with a raised eyebrow.

Owen held back a snort. "If you're suggesting—" he started, and Jack shook his head, standing as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

"Of course not," he said. "Just pointing it out. I assume, as our doctor, that you'll want to keep an eye on her anyway."

"Christ, Jack, could you be more obvious?" Owen muttered.

"If you wanted me to," Jack replied cheerfully. "But that might get uncomfortable. So I'll remind you of something you just said: she's strong, and she's amazing. And she's right in front of you."

Owen felt his mouth moving, but didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. It sounded as if Jack was playing matchmaker, and while one part of Owen rebelled against the idea, another found it both intriguing and appealing. He'd always known that Tosh was special, and he'd known for a while that she was interested in him, but he'd never put the two together and considered her as anything more than a coworker and friend. Now it seemed as if Jack was not only suggesting it, but encouraging it.

Before Owen could offer a sarcastic comment, Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go get a pint of Guinness or something."

Owen narrowed his eyes. "It's eleven o'clock in the morning," he pointed out. "And you don't usually drink."

"It was a rough morning," Jack replied. "And I could use it. We can stop and pick up lunch while we're out."

"You check with teaboy about that?" asked Owen as they started to walk away. Jack's face softened into a small smile. The look in his eyes confirmed what Owen had been thinking about earlier, that there was definitely something going on between him and Ianto, something different this time. Jack seemed to come back from whatever thoughts he'd got lost in, and shook his head.

"Ianto's out with Gwen on a retrieval, so we can surprise him," Jack said. "I think this case got to him, too."

Owen wondered about that comment, but decided not to press the issue. It wasn't any of his business anyway. He nodded, and he and Jack headed to the closest pub, where they had a quick pint and ordered fish and chips for the rest of the team. They did not talk about Tosh, or Tommy, or Ianto, but of other things, normal things, and Owen left feeling slightly better—about his life, his job, and what they had to sacrifice some days.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pushing canon with Jack's implication here, but I went for it. Why not? It's possible, however improbable. And I am trying to touch on some other than the obvious with each episode. A few will probably be exactly what you expect, of course, but hopefully the next one is a surprise as well. Thank you for reading!


	17. Brains

17\. Brains

Rhys Williams sat at a tall table in the back of the pub, nursing his pint as he watched the match playing on a nearby television. He was still taking the painkillers prescribed by the doctor Gwen worked with…what was his name? Owen…and knew he'd have to go easy on the beer, but had decided to enjoy at least one or two pints of Brains. He glanced around the room, wondering when his appointment would arrive, and was relieved to see him walk through the door at that very moment.

Ianto Jones waved and pointed toward the bar; Rhys shook his head held up his glass, the other man nodded, and headed off to get a drink for himself. Rhys half thought the man would come back with a fancy martini to match the posh suit and Burberry overcoat, but Ianto joined him with a pint of Brains as well, and Rhys felt that whatever Ianto wanted to talk to him about would go much smoother for it.

The other man took off his coat, shaking the rain from the hair, and held out his hand to Rhys. "Thanks for meeting me," Ianto said. "I appreciate you coming out in this weather."

"This?" Rhys scoffed, glancing at the window, where the wind whipped the rain in sheets. "I've driven through the mountains in far worse. Just a squall."

Ianto shook his head with a smile. "Spoken like a true Welshman!" he said. They clicked glasses and took a long sip.

"How's your shoulder?" Ianto asked. Rhys rolled it a few times.

"Stiff and sore, which is why I'm still wearing the sling, but whatever your Dr. Harper gave me seems to be helping."

"Alien drugs usually do," Ianto murmured, watching him over the rim of his glass. He still had a bruise on his face from his own scuffles at the warehouse, and his wrists were red from where he'd been tied up. Rhys couldn't help but glance around and lean forward.

"Are you serious? You lot gave me alien drugs?"

Ianto's normally serious face split into a grin. "No, I'm taking the piss. We do have some advanced medical technology and a few other things we use as needed, but so far we haven't discovered the cure for pain. He probably just gave you the good Earth-based drugs we keep on hand for serious injuries."

Rhys nodded. "See a lot, then?" he asked. "Of serious injuries?"

Ianto shrugged. "It's a dangerous line of work," he said. "Which makes the occasional bump and bruise inevitable."

"Gwen's come home with quite a few over the last year," Rhys said. "And every time, I wondered what she'd got herself into. But she told me she was fine, that it was worth it." He met Ianto's gaze straight on. "Is it worth it?" he asked.

Ianto traced a water mark on the table as he seemed to think about it. "In the end, yes," he finally said. "But it requires a lot of sacrifice."

"Like what?" asked Rhys, curious about the other man's sudden turn of mood. Ianto seemed to study him before replying.

"Everything," he said bluntly. "Both literally and figuratively. We give up our normal lives so that everyone else can live theirs." He took a sip from his glass and tipped it toward Rhys. "And in some ways, you just sacrificed yours."

"My what?" asked Rhys. "My life?"

"Your normal," said Ianto. "Your sense of what's right and good, what's possible and impossible. You may not be out there chasing aliens with Gwen, but you know what she's doing now when she's called out in the middle of the night, when she comes home with more bumps and bruises."

Rhys shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said firmly. "We'll make a new normal. I'd rather know the truth than be left in the dark. To be honest, I'm still bothered she never told me about any of this."

"She was bound by the Official Secrets Act," said Ianto, raising an eyebrow. "And I imagine she didn't want to worry you."

"I worried anyway," said Rhys. "At least now I know why, and she can talk to me about it if she needs to. Before, she was always talking around whatever was bothering her, apologizing for keeping secrets. Now I know."

"Now you know," said Ianto, nodding slowly. "And what do we do about that?"

Rhys set down his pint glass in surprise. "What do you mean, what do you do about that? What can you do? I was there, I saw it all!"

Ianto was silent for a moment. "Has Gwen told you about Retcon?" he asked.

Rhys shook his head. "No, she hasn't. She said your boss wasn't very happy about me being in the loop now, but I don't know what you lot can do about it, besides make me disappear."

Ianto grinned, but this time it was a cool, calculating one, not open and friendly. "We could," he agreed. "We do it all the time—cover things up. If the truth were to get out about some of the things we see and do, there would likely be mass panic."

"So you lie," Rhys said with a snort. "Gwen said you lied about what those men did, what was happening at the warehouse, that poor creature they were torturing."

"Do you think it should have been on the evening news?" Ianto asked. "Do you think the world should know about aliens and rifts in time and all the other things we protect them from?"

Rhys thought about it, but it was an easy question to answer. "Of course not. Like you said, people would panic, probably riot. You do what you have to do, and the rest of us poor sods live in blissful ignorance. Cheers!" He raised his glass to Ianto and finished it.

"You're a remarkable man, Rhys," said Ianto, his face relaxing, his smile friendly once more. "It took Gwen months to realize that about Torchwood, and sometimes I think she still doesn't understand."

"She's a stubborn minx, my Gwen," Rhys said fondly. He wasn't surprised by Ianto's statement, nor was he offended. Gwen had been talking nonstop about Torchwood since they'd left the base three days earlier, and it had not been difficult to pick up on her feelings about working for the secret organization. She loved it—too much, Rhys thought—yet at the same time, she often disagreed with what they did and how they did it.

"She keeps us on our toes," Ianto murmured. He motioned for two more pints and continued. "We have ways of making people forget what they see, the things we do. It's called Retcon. It's a tiny pill that reprograms one's memory so that the aliens they saw become wild animals, or the spaceship becomes an airplane."

Rhys stared at the table as Ianto slid a small white pill toward him. "This is a level 2 pill. It will wipe out the past week, so that you have no memory of the warehouse, the Hub, the space whale. Nothing."

"What?" Rhys exclaimed. Ianto covered the pill as the barmaid brought them another drink. When she'd left, Rhys leaned forward. "Are you telling me you're going to wipe my memory? That everything I saw, everything I did, becomes nothing more than a made up story?"

"Possibly," said Ianto. He uncovered the pill and tapped the table.

"How would you explain a bloody bullet wound?" Rhys demanded. "That's a bit hard to cover up!"

Ianto shrugged. "You were a victim of an armed robbery and tried to fight back. It's not unheard of, and the police records would be easy to fake."

"No," said Rhys. "I don't want to forget, and Gwen would never accept it. She can't stop talking about Torchwood now. She's been holding back for a year, unable to tell me _anything_ – you can't take that away from her! She needs it!"

"Yes, she probably does," Ianto nodded in agreement. He pointed at the pill. "Which is why it's your choice."

"What?" asked Rhys again, thoroughly confused by the rapid changes in conversation and mood. "My choice? What is this, the bloody Matrix?"

"Not quite," Ianto replied with a chuckle. "I could never pull off Laurence Fishburne's leather coat. But I am offering you a similar choice: take the pill, and return to your normal life. Don't take the pill, and you're stuck down the rabbit hole with the rest of us."

"That's easy," Rhys replied immediately. "I—"

Ianto held up a hand. "Let me finish. Knowing about Torchwood is a dark, sometimes difficult responsibility. You will be held to the same standards as Gwen and asked to sign the OSA as a reminder. In our case, that means any violation, even the smallest slip, may result in criminal prosecution and a sentence that could include imprisonment, extradition, or execution." He paused, and when Rhys was silent, continued.

"More importantly, it means you stay quiet for Gwen's sake. No telling stories at the pub, because anything you say or do can put her life at stake, and possibly ours as well." Rhys opened his mouth, but Ianto held up a hand, and for the first time since the conversation had started, Rhys had the impression of steely strength and determination from the other man. He was clearly more than a clever young administrator in a fancy suit.

Gwen had often dismissed Ianto Jones when she'd started at Torchwood, referring to him as their glorified butler. Her opinion had quickly changed, however. Rhys suspected that the man had suffered a great tragedy not long after Gwen had started, for she'd shown a great deal of sympathy toward him after that. It had grown into deep respect, tempered with occasional disagreements during the months when Jack had been gone. Sometimes he even caught a hint of jealousy in Gwen's voice when she talked about Ianto, though he wasn't sure what that was about. But everything else…just a few minutes alone with Ianto Jones, and Rhys felt he understood the man much better.

Ianto Jones was clearly a man to be wary of. He was calm, competent, and calculating. He knew how to intimidate and manipulate, and he clearly knew how to fight, given his performance at the warehouse. He could wipe a man's memory, make him disappear, and fake any record of it he needed to. Rhys knew he didn't have a chance if Ianto Jones decided he needed to forget everything about Torchwood.

"I don't want to Retcon you," Ianto said, leaning closer. He was both intense and sincere. "You proved yourself at the warehouse, and I think Gwen needs to be able to talk about what she does with someone. You may not know this, but Jack and Gwen had quite the confrontation over you." Sitting back, he smiled, but for the first time, Rhys saw a bitter tint to his expression. "Which is not unusual, really. They're always arguing over something."

"But this time it was about me," Rhys said. He was nervous about the direction of the conversation. He liked Ianto Jones, but the man scared the hell out of him with his twists and turns, even more than Jack Harkness.

Ianto nodded. "I came here to make sure what was decided in the heat of the moment was the right decision. It's not just Gwen's job on the line, but her life—and not just her life, but ours and every other person in Cardiff whom we work to protect. I need to be sure you understand the seriousness of the situation, Rhys, and what you're getting yourself into."

Rhys had had enough. He leaned forward and poked his finger in the other man's face. "You listen here. I went undercover to stop an alien meat operation for you. For Gwen. I took a bullet for her. I have spent three days with her hovering over me and talking about nothing but bloody Torchwood. So if you think I'm going to give that up, that I'm going to go back to being the ignorant fiancé that Gwen can't talk to at the end of a bad day, you're wrong." He took a breath to finish. "I'm not going to blab, I'm not going to breathe a word to anyone. Because I love her, and I would never put her in danger just so I could run my mouth at the pub."

Ianto raised an eyebrow and smirked. He took a sip of his drink and nodded. "What did you tell your mates about your arm?" he asked.

"Told 'em I hurt it lifting a shipment out of one my trucks," Rhys replied defiantly. Ianto nodded.

"Good. Did they press you?"

"Not really, because I shrugged off any more questions until they left it alone. Good enough for you?"

The other man's face broke into a grin. "I think so. You've restored my faith in Welsh common sense and dignity. And you're doing a good thing for Gwen."

Rhys let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So that means…what? That I can…"

"Keep your memory," Ianto replied. "I'll need you to sign some paperwork, and you'll be monitored for a while, to make sure you adhere to your agreement. Sound all right?"

Rhys nodded slowly. "Sounds brilliant. My heart is still racing, though. I thought I was a goner for a second there!"

Ianto finished his pint and set it down, pocketing the white pill he'd left on the table. "I had no intention of wiping your memory. This is just paracetamol."

"Bloody hell," Rhys murmured. "You're a wily bastard, you know."

"Thank you," said Ianto, standing and pulling on his coat. He pulled a ten pound note and some coins from his wallet and left them on the table. "In this line of work, I'll take it as a compliment." He nodded at the table. "Should cover it. Thanks again, Rhys."

"Thank you," said Rhys. "We should do this again sometime."

Ianto cocked his head to the side. "Lie to, threaten, and intimidate one another?" he asked, but he was clearly holding back a grin.

"Meet for a pint," said Rhys. "I wouldn't mind asking some more questions about this stuff, and you seem like the one most likely to answer them honestly."

"Really?" asked Ianto, genuinely surprised. "All right, then. Anytime, Rhys."

"Great," said Rhys, standing to shake the man's hand. "I appreciate it."

"Take care of that shoulder," said Ianto. "I'll see you around."

Rhys nodded and watched him head out into the storm. He wondered why Gwen was always going on about Jack and Owen when Ianto Jones seemed like a much more sensible sort of bloke. He liked the younger man even if Ianto somewhat terrified him. Torchwood could probably use more good Welshman like Ianto Jones. Finishing his pint, Rhys looked forward to having another with him someday, hopefully without the need for Retcon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way more than a drabble, but I couldn't help it – Rhys and Ianto can be brilliant fun together!


	18. Random Shots

18\. Random Shots

"What does it mean, leave well alone?" asked Tosh. Ianto shrugged, looking frustrated.

"I have no idea, and neither does Jack."

"Drink up, teaboy," said Owen, sliding a shot glass across the table in front of the sofa. "The best way to forget what we forgot is to forget that we forgot."

"That makes about as much sense as any of this," Ianto replied, raising the glass. "Cheers!"

Owen poured one for the rest of them and downed his own with Ianto. "So what else did our illustrious Captain say about this hot mess?"

Ianto reached for the bottle on the table and poured himself another shot, swirling it around as he stared into the liquid. "He doesn't remember anything either, didn't recognize the photo I found, just like the rest of us."

"Do you believe him?" asked Gwen. Owen made an impatient gesture with his hand, she did her shot, and he poured her another as she shivered and coughed. "He doesn't always tell us everything, after all."

"Understatement of the century," muttered Owen, and Ianto nodded in agreement as he loosened his tie and leaned back on the sofa.

"He keeps his cards close, but I don't think he'd hide something like this from us, not this time. This involves a lot more than…well, than his usual hedging around the truth." He grimaced and choked back his shot. "If he erased our memories, he'd tell us. I think he's as confused and worried as the rest of us, but the mental cue—leave well alone—seems to have calmed some of his fears."

"I don't understand why he's so sure the mental cue is safe," said Tosh, sitting next to Ianto on the sofa. She hadn't done her shot yet and shook her head when Owen prompted her. He did another instead and poured a third for him and Ianto. "What if someone else planted it, and not him?"

"That's what I said!" Ianto exclaimed, hands waving through the air. "If someone wiped our records and our memories, of course they'd leave a mental suggestion to leave it alone and not look into it!"

"Cheers to the obvious," said Owen. Even Tosh nodded, and emptied her glass.

"I want to know why Owen sent you flowers," said Gwen. She was sitting in the chair next to the sofa, feet tucked under her. Owen groaned.

"Apparently to apologize," said Tosh, grinning cheekily at Owen. "Which definitely means something strange happened over the last few days!"

"Exactly," said Owen. "Because I don't apologize, and I definitely don't send flowers for it. So I must have been off my head."

"Maybe it was those glasses you woke up with," Ianto suggested with a smirk.

"Stuff it," said Owen. "Have another." He poured another shot for Ianto and Gwen. "We're good on the Rift, right Tosh? Quiet night?"

"Nothing for forty-eight hours," she said, holding out her glass. "Should even give us time to recover from the hangover."

Gwen raised hers, they clinked glasses, and with much coughing and sputtering, finished another round.

"What I don't get is how Rhys got swept up into all this," said Gwen. "When I called him, he said he'd been asleep for several hours and didn't remember anything strange about the last few days!"

Ianto frowned. "So whatever happened affected him as well. Hell of welcome to Torchwood—first he gets shot, then he gets his memory wiped."

Gwen sighed and reached for another drink. "I hate it, but at the same time, I'm so glad he knows," she said. "We—"

"—know," interrupted Owen. "Moving on—so where's our captain now?"

"He wanted to talk to the police, see what happened that we might have forgotten," said Tosh. They all turned to look at her. "What? He is concerned about it, even if he's trying to reassure the rest of us."

"But…but…" Ianto said, frowning and trying to get the words out. "He usually leaves that to me or Gwen. Since we can do it without pissing off the entire station and leaving behind a collection of phone numbers and broken hearts."

Owen snorted. "Then you should probably make peace tomorrow morning before they cut off our access to crime scenes."

Ianto glanced at Gwen and they nodded. They all sat in silence for a moment, turning over whatever thoughts of the mysterious lost days they could as the alcohol kicked in. The sudden blaring of the alarm startled them all; Tosh jumped in her seat, and Owen swore under his breath before downing another shot.

Jack strode in, holding a large vase of flowers. He glanced around it and grinned. "Hey kids, how're we doing?"

"Depends," said Ianto, raising an eyebrow and sitting up straighter. "How did it go with the police?"

Jack lowered the flowers and frowned. "Fine, why?"

"What did they say, Jack?" asked Gwen. "About the last two days?"

Jack shrugged. "Just that they saw 'those poncey special ops Muppets, stomping around and acting like they own the place.' I'm assuming that's us and that we were called out at least once."

Ianto snorted and knocked back his shot before flopping back against the sofa. Gwen poured him another. "Tomorrow morning?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Coffee and pastries should do the trick," he said.

"It's a date," she replied. Jack looked so confused that they burst out laughing.

"Well, now I can see why you missed the delivery upstairs." He proudly displayed his vase of flowers—roses and lilies and baby's breath. "Someone sent me flowers."

All eyes turned to Owen, who threw up his hands. "Give me a break! Why the hell would I send him flowers?"

"To apologize for being a general pain in the arse, perhaps?" suggested Ianto, and the girls sniggered. Owen pointed a finger at the Welshman.

"Or maybe it was you, and you're trying to get back into his pants."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "There are far better ways of getting into Jack's pants, believe me." He seemed to realize what he said, shrugged, and finished his drink.

Owen opened his mouth to retort, Ianto mimed gun fingers at his shoulder, and Jack looked confused once again.

"There's no note," he said, walking past them to his office. "So I must have a secret admirer," he tossed over his shoulder.

This time three pairs of eyes turned toward Ianto. "What?" he asked, putting his feet up on the table. Gwen pushed them down and he huffed at her. "I am not a secret admirer. I admire people in the open."

Owen rolled his eyes and Gwen giggled, but Tosh looked concerned. "What if the flowers are from someone having to do with our memory loss?"

Ianto leaned forward and motioned them close. He lowered his voice. "They're not. He ordered them himself."

"What?" asked Tosh, and Owen fell back laughing with Gwen. Ianto nodded sagely.

"I heard him on the phone. He ordered them himself. He liked yours." Ianto waved at Tosh's flowers.

"So he sent himself flowers?" sputtered Gwen. "What for? To make us jealous or something?"

"I don't know," said Owen. "Are you jealous, Jones?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Absolutely. I'm plotting my revenge as we speak."

"Really?" asked Tosh, and Ianto looped an arm around her shoulder.

"Of course not," said Ianto. "Well, not this time, anyway. I don't think it would be good to mess with his head after we've all lost our memory."

"You're a good man, Ianto," she replied, snuggling up against him. Jack appeared then, hands tucked into his pockets.

"So, team…" he started. They all glanced up at him and waited for him to continue. The silence stretched. Gwen broke it by trying to hold in a laugh that came out more like an elephant snort. The others fell apart, and Jack watched them with a straight face, until he couldn't help but join in.

The sound of Ianto's mobile interrupted them. He squinted at his phone and stood up, albeit unsteadily.

"It seems I have a delivery of my own," he said, pulling down his waistcoat. "Pizza's here!"

"Time to sober up?" asked Jack. Owen reached toward the bottle on the table, but fell back into his chair with a nod.

"Good idea."

"Care to help, sir?" asked Ianto, edging close by Jack as he made his way toward the stairs. There was no mistaking the physical contact. "I could use a helping hand."

Jack grinned and wagged his eyebrows at the others and followed without a word. Owen went back to the bottle and poured them all another shot.

"Here's hoping they're back in an hour," he said. "Because I do not want cold pizza covered in—"

"Oh Owen," said Tosh as Gwen took Ianto's place on the sofa. "It's been a hard week. Leave well alone!"

Her and Tosh fell against one another in a fit of giggles. Owen leaned back and closed his eyes.

Maybe if he was lucky he'd forget the last hour had ever happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every so often I can turn out a lighter one. A different way of dealing with the aftermath of Adam - enjoy!


	19. Tea

19\. Tea

He found her in the archives, curled up on the old chair he'd found and moved to the work area near the entrance. Her legs were tucked under her, and she'd wrapped the blanket from the back of the chair around her shoulders. Staring off into the dark aisles, her face was a portrait of sadness and loss.

"I made some tea," Ianto said quietly, holding out Tosh's favorite mug. "The fruity green tea you and Gwen seem to like so much."

She glanced up in surprise and took the warm mug between cold hands. Taking a sip, she smiled at him. "It's good, you should try it."

He took a sip from his own mug, clearly coffee, black with sugar. Pulling over the desk chair, he turned it backwards and sat down in front of her, arms resting over the back. "No thank you," he said, continuing their long running banter over her preferred choice of tea. "Real tea is black with milk and honey," he said. "Not green with mangoes and pears." He smiled, and she shook her head fondly.

"You don't know what you're missing." Taking another sip, she sighed. Of course it was perfect; even if he didn't drink it himself, Ianto knew how to prepare it exactly as she liked it. "Thank you for this," she said.

"Haven't seen you for a while," said Ianto. "Figured you might be cold down here."

She shrugged. "It's chilly, but quiet."

He nodded in understanding. "There's a lot going on upstairs."

"Everything's changed," Tosh whispered, her eyes slipping shut. "Only it hasn't, not really. We thought we lost him, but we didn't."

"And yet, we have," said Ianto. "He's different now. We'll all have to adapt."

"Especially Owen," said Tosh.

"Especially Owen," echoed Ianto. He cleared his throat. "He can, you know. And he will. He has to."

Tosh shook her head and took another sip of warm tea. "He's so angry right now," she said, thinking of Owen's confrontation with Death. He'd been so willing to sacrifice himself, not only because he was a hero, but because he was a man who believed he'd lost everything.

Ianto was quiet for a moment. "He's scared, I think," he finally said. "Yes, he's angry…angry that he died but didn't die, and now he's living this strange half-life where he can't eat, can't breathe, can't even sleep. And he's on borrowed time. I don't think he wants to actually die, forever, but whatever's happened could be over in a day, a week, a year. That's terrifying."

Tosh nodded slowly, thinking about it. "But that's Torchwood," she pointed out. "We all live on borrowed time, don't we? It could be a Weevil tomorrow, or the Rift next week. We all face the risk of death with Torchwood."

"You're quite right." Ianto nodded, smiling as he glanced down. "Now I'm really depressed." He was clearly joking, however, and Tosh fussed at him.

"Stop it," she said. "You signed up for it, just like the rest of us, and you love it, just like the rest of us. But Owen…Owen didn't ask for this. Life, death…but not stuck in between."

"He didn't," Ianto agreed. "And I think I'd feel the same if I were brought back to such a life. Angry and scared."

Tosh was quiet for a moment. "Why did Jack do it?" she finally asked, knowing it was all right to ask Ianto. He wouldn't hold it against her, and he may even want to talk about it. She could never ask Jack; there were clearly too many emotions at play for both him, her, and Owen.

Ianto looked troubled, and he took his time replying. "I don't know, Tosh," he finally said, his voice quiet and low. "I really don't … it's not like we talk about…well, things. Feelings." He shrugged. "I get it, though. Doing anything to save someone… it's not like I can damn him."

"None of us can," Tosh said quietly, thinking of what'd she'd done for her mother, what Ianto had done for Lisa, and Gwen for Rhys. "Only I guess I…" She wasn't sure what she wanted to say, admit out loud. That she hadn't realized how close Jack and Owen were? She still wasn't sure, which was why it was confusing at times, and it wasn't what she was really worried about, deep down. As he so often did, Ianto knew what she was thinking.

"You wonder if he'd do the same for the rest of us?" She glanced at him in surprise, grateful that he could say what she could not. Ianto sipped at his coffee with a sad look on his face. "I can't stop thinking about it," he whispered. He set down his mug and rubbed at his face. "And I hate myself for it."

"Oh, Ianto," she said, sitting on the edge of the chair and reaching out for his hands. "Of course he'd do the same, _especially_ for you."

He shook his head. "Please don't say that. He cares for all of us, we're his team. The thing is, I don't know if I…well…"

"If you'd want him to bring you back?" Tosh asked, and he nodded. "I don't know either. I always thought I'd die a hero."

"And not stick around for your own funeral?" Ianto asked, a smile pulling at his lips. He took a deep breath. "I'm glad we have Owen, for however much longer we have him, but it won't be easy for him. I don't think I could do it."

"Me neither," she whispered, and he squeezed her hands. "But Owen can."

"But Owen can," said Ianto. He leaned over and picked up his mug, then stood and held out his other hand for Tosh. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"You don't have to," she started, and he held out his elbow for her.

"I want to," he said. "Gwen took Martha back to her hotel, and Owen is talking to Jack. So you're stuck with me."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Thank you, Ianto," she said softly.

"You're welcome," he said, and they made their way upstairs, to a new normal with Torchwood.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized when I was halfway through this one that it's Ianto in the archives again, only with Tosh instead of Gwen. What can I say, his role of team caretaker, and his friendship with Tosh, is so entrenched in fandom sometimes that it's hard not to go there!


	20. Manhattan

20\. Manhattan

Martha was leaving the next day, and Jack couldn't blame her for going. Yes, he could use a fully functioning team member now that Owen was on borrowed time and limited duty, but she had her own career, her own life, with UNIT back in London. He couldn't take her away from that, and then condemn her to the dangerous and erratic life of a Torchwood agent. She deserved better, like all the rest of them.

They were having a late dinner together, enjoying some time to catch up and talk about things that weren't related to Torchwood, to the Pharm, to Owen. Sipping a Manhattan, Martha talked about her family in London, whom Jack sometimes felt he knew better than Martha herself. She had been on Earth, avoiding capture and trying to save the world, while he had been captive on board the _Valiant_ , and it had been the Jones family that he'd seen every day, while Martha walked the world.

They were coping, she said. Recovering from the trauma of having experienced something no one else remembered and moving on with normal life, slowly but surely. She'd talked to them several times since coming to Cardiff, and they were eager to see him again.

"Any chance for a visit?" she asked. Jack set down his own cocktail and smiled.

"That depends, when's the wedding?" he asked. She laughed, albeit somewhat nervously.

"He hasn't asked," she replied. "But if he does, you'll be the one of the first to know."

"Tell me about him," said Jack. "I was a bit busy that year and never met him."

Martha talked enthusiastically about Thomas Milligan, the doctor she had met while traveling the world during The Year That Never Was, and then looked up again when time had reset. She was obviously fond of him, but Jack sensed a hesitation, an uncertainty in her words that he wanted to ask about, but the waiter brought them a plate of appetizers then, and it was a few minutes before the conversation continued.

"What about you?" Martha asked, continuing when Jack gave her a curious look. "Enough about me, what about you and Ianto?"

"What about us?" Jack asked around a mouthful of bread. He apologized and took a sip of his drink.

"Well, for one, how did you meet?" she asked. "I'm assuming through Torchwood."

"And you'd assume correctly. He transferred from London right after Canary Wharf." Jack hoped she didn't ask him too much about it, as he felt it wasn't his place to share that part of Ianto's past. She frowned.

"Canary Wharf?" she asked. "There was a Torchwood branch there, right?"

Jack nodded. "Torchwood One. I don't remember the official story the FOC put out for the public, but it was destroyed by Cybermen and Daleks."

"And Ianto was there?" Martha asked. "I heard it was terrible." She finished her drink and Jack motioned for two more.

"It was a nightmare. He was one of few survivors," Jack told her. "He came to Cardiff looking for a job not long after. We didn't really need anyone, and I admit I didn't want anyone from One, but he offered to do whatever was needed, so he became our General Support."

"Why would he want to stay with Torchwood after something like that?" she asked in wonder. "I suppose I'm not one to talk, seeing as I joined UNIT after running around the universe with the Doctor, but still. It must have been hard."

"You have no idea," Jack murmured, playing with his empty glass and thinking back to that dark time. He didn't realize how long he'd been quiet until Martha touched his arm.

"Was he all right?" she asked softly. The waiter appeared then with their drinks, and Jack waited until the man had left to reply.

"Look, I can't talk about it, because it's his story. It's personal, and it's painful, but he had his reasons for coming to Cardiff. It just took a while for things to settle down."

"He seems born to it," Martha said, leaning back. "Like he's been running the place almost as long as you have."

"He's damn good at what he does," Jack replied, feeling a touch of pride for the young man who had practically taken over the Hub and turned it around within months. "We'd be lost without him."

"So when did you and him…" She trailed off with raised eyebrows. He laughed, but was saved by the waiter appearing with their main dishes. He tucked in without answering, but he should have known Martha wouldn't leave it alone.

"You're being awfully coy, Jack," she said. "You wanted to come back for this team of yours, so why are you secretive?"

"I'm not," he said with a shrug and a smile. "But it's complicated."

"It usually is," she said with a nod. "Nothing wrong with that. Love is never simple. It's—"

"Whoa, hang on, who said anything about love?" Jack asked. Martha raised an eyebrow.

"Well, then, talk to me. What is it, and why is it complicated?" Jack didn't answer, so she continued. "Is it because you work together? Because he's a man? Because you're a man? Because you're an incorrigible flirt?"

Jack couldn't help but smile. "All of the above, and more?"

Martha studied him. "Talk to me, Jack. I like him, and you mentioned him several times when we were coming back, so I think you do too. What's really going on?"

Jack sighed and set down his fork, took a long sip of his drink. "What do you want me to say, Martha? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not like you—any of you." He gestured around the restaurant. "Relationships are different for me, they're—"

"Complicated?" she suggested dryly when he trailed off.

"I know it sounds cliché, but when you're an immortal time-traveler, it's also the truth." Jack sighed and continued to eat. "Plus we have a hell of a history between us. Sometimes I think it's a miracle we haven't killed each other."

"Jack!" she exclaimed. "You don't mean that!"

"I do," he said. He couldn't help but grin at her reaction. "I was this close to shooting him, he threw me through the Rift, and that's not the half of it." She shook her head, clearly thinking he was telling tales.

"If that's even half true, then what's going on?" she asked. "Just an office affair, a bit of fun on cold nights? Because as long as you're both clear about it, that's fine." When he didn't reply—what could he say to that, since she couldn't be more wrong?—she leaned forward and continued.

"But I don't think that's what it is. I've seen the way you work together, for one. You're tight—seamless, like you're practically reading one another's minds sometimes. And that's aside from the looks and touches and smiles that are definitely not typical coworker looks and touches and smiles—even for you!"

"Martha," he started, and he stopped him.

"It's not my place to pry, but I'm going to anyway. We went through something together, and I think that gives us the right to look out for each other. So I'm looking out for you…I don't want you to get hurt, Jack, and even though I only met him a few days ago, I don't want Ianto to get hurt either."

"I know," he said, taking her hand. "And I don't want to hurt him…but sometimes I don't know what to do. I don't want to give it up. He's important to me, special."

"Go on," she said, taking her hand back with a smile and continuing with her meal.

"It actually started before I left, but it was purely physical, comfort and release wrapped up in sex. Though even then, I think it was moving toward more. I thought about it a lot on the _Valiant_." He finished his drink, needing the liquid courage to continue. "I had a lot of time to think about things, after all, and I realized it had come to mean something to me, and that it could mean more. So I asked him out when I got back, and we've been dating, I suppose is the word, ever since. Considering how much time we spend together, it's definitely more than an office affair, but we're not picking out china or anything."

She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't expecting anything like that," she said. "It sounds serious, though, yeah? And he seems awfully good for you, Jack."

"He is," Jack answered without hesitation. "He's amazing. And I don't know how serious it is, but…I care about him. I do. A lot."

"Then don't get caught up in other drama," she said. She pointed her fork at him. "I know you, Jack Harkness. Don't mess this up by doing something stupid because you think it's better for him, or because you're too busy flirting with that 51st century smile and forget what things are like in this century. Otherwise I won't send you that UNIT cap."

He pretended to be wounded. "But red is his color!" he laughed. She joined him.

"That's what he said too," she said, then held up a hand before he could even ask. "And no, I'm not telling you how I know that! That's between me and Ianto. Where is he tonight? You could have asked him to join us, you know. Then I could get to know him better."

"What are you, my mum?" Jack grumbled good-naturedly. She nodded.

"Mum and big sister rolled into one. But don't worry, I already approve. So why didn't you invite him?"

"I did," Jack replied. "He insisted we catch up on our own since it's been so hectic at the Hub. I think he was planning on going to his local. Hang out with the young people."

"Will you see him after?" she asked. He shrugged. Now that they'd spent so much time talking about him, Jack did want to see Ianto later. Between Martha's visit and Owen's death and resurrection, Jack felt like he'd not seen Ianto as much as he usually did. It had only been a few days, and they'd certainly seen one another at work, yet that was work, and he found to his surprise that he missed the Welshman he'd come to know outside of work. He'd not told him much about Martha, and they'd had little opportunity to talk about Owen, and Jack realized he needed to share both. He was surprised at how much he suddenly wanted to leave, to find Ianto, to tell him all the things he'd held back for so long.

"You should text him," Martha said. "You've probably not had much time together the last few days, have you?"

Jack shook his head. "It's fine. It's your last night in town, and we've barely even talked about the Doctor!"

Martha stuck out her tongue. "Let's not even go there. Especially since we both have someone else we're missing. Will you see him later tonight?"

"I don't know," Jack said. "Maybe."

"You should," she said. "I'm too tired to go clubbing," she said with a wink. "Text him. Maybe we could meet for breakfast, the three of us?"

"Really?" Jack asked in surprise.

"Really," she laughed. "Why wouldn't I want to have breakfast with two gorgeous men?"

They chatted for another half hour, finishing their drinks as they touched on work and Owen and even the Doctor, but eventually they agreed that it was time to go home, Martha to her hotel room, and Jack to the Hub. With a warm embrace, they said good night and parted ways. Halfway to the Hub, Jack changed his mind; it wasn't that late, after all, and if Ianto was still out, maybe Jack could meet him for a drink. If he was home already, maybe Jack could stop by. It had been a long, difficult few days, and though he'd enjoyed his time with Martha, Jack could think of nothing better than ending the day with Ianto.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Taamar for helping me finish this one!


	21. Lemonade

21\. Lemonade

It was too cold to sit outside under the pergola where he'd first met and spoken to Christina, but there were several private sitting rooms scattered throughout the old building, and the nurse directed Ianto to one of these. He paced somewhat nervously across the worn carpet, not sure why he was there, not sure if he _should_ be there, but he felt he owed it to her. To let her know that some small good had come of the entire mess.

"Mr. Jones!" she exclaimed in her paper thin voice as the nurse wheeled her into the room. "How kind of you to come see me again." She held out her hand, and Ianto pressed her cold fingers between his own with a warm smile.

"I enjoyed our last meeting," he said. "I hope you don't mind my coming by again. I don't mean to intrude on your afternoon."

"It's no intrusion whatsoever," she said. Glancing up at the nurse, she nodded. "Thank you, Gladys. I don't suppose I could trouble you for some lemonade? Two glasses?"

The middle-aged nurse smiled and patted Christina on the shoulder. "Of course, love. I'll be back in a few minutes, right after I check in on George. You enjoy your visit."

Christina motioned at a chair, and Ianto sat down across from her, finding himself unexpectedly tongue-tied now that he was there. To his surprise, she spoke first.

"You've more shadows about you, Mr. Jones," she said, sounding sad. "Did something happen? Is that why you've come?"

He shook his head. "How did you know? That they touched me, the first time we were here?"

"I told you," she said. "I can sense it. I could feel from the moment I met the Ghostmaker as a child that he was all wrong.

"But how?" Ianto insisted. He wasn't sure why he was hung up on the issue, wasn't sure it was important, only it was. For her, and now, for him.

Christina did not reply right away, but studied him so closely that Ianto almost started to twitch from the attention. Finally, she nodded. "They say the eyes are the window into the soul, you know."

"And can you see into a person's soul?" he asked.

"I can," she said with utmost certainty. "It's how I knew the Ghostmaker was wrong. I looked into his eyes, and he had no soul."

Her voice had dropped to a childlike whisper, and Ianto shivered even though he was inside.

"And what do you see in my eyes?" he asked, half wanting the answer and half fearing it. She reached out for his hand.

"I can see the shadows in your eyes," she said. "I can see your strength and courage, but I also see pain and suffering and sadness. You've had a difficult life, have you not, Mr. Jones?"

He nodded wordlessly, and she continued. "You've lost people, like I have. To senseless evil, whether from this world or another. It leaves shadows on the soul, in your eyes."

The nurse arrived then and left them with two glasses of cool lemonade, which Christina accepted with a gracious smile. She took a sip and hummed happily. It was freshly made, and when he commented on it, she nodded.

"Indeed it is. The only way to enjoy lemonade! I made it myself for years, but these old hands can't squeeze the lemons anymore. Gladys is kind enough to make me a glass or two on special occasions." Before Ianto could protest, she held up her other hand. "And yes, Mr. Jones, this is a special occasion. I don't have many visitors, especially now. So tell me your news. I know you have some reason for coming to see an old woman."

He took another sip of the strong yet delicious drink and set it down. "We stopped them, the Ghostmaker and his followers. At least, for now."

"Oh." She went pale and her hand started shaking, and Ianto grabbed her glass before she dropped it. "Oh my, that is good news. Please tell me what happened. You've more shadows than last time, yet you tell me they're gone?"

"They stole more breaths," Ianto told her. "But we were able to get the flask, the silver flask you told us about, and save one person, a young boy. He's going to be all right."

There were tears in her eyes as Ianto continued. "The boy is with extended family now. We destroyed them all, though there may be other ways for them to return, and the flask is safe and secured. As far as we know, they're gone."

"But he touched you again, didn't he?" asked Christina. She patted his knee. "It's painful, I know. It marks you forever with the shadows."

"You are a remarkable woman," Ianto said, and he meant it.

"Oh, I don't know about that," she replied with a light laugh. "If I was so remarkable, I might not have spent my entire life in this place."

"Perhaps that's why you're here," Ianto told her. "Because you're so remarkable. I wish the world had seen it, had believed you."

A look of deep sadness passed across her face, and Ianto almost wished he could take back his words, but she must have seen his expression, because she shook her head. "I've no regrets, Mr. Jones. You believed me. You and your Captain Harkness."

"We tend to see a number of..." He tried to think of the right word, probably failed. "Unbelievable things in our line of work. Things that seem impossible, that sometimes shouldn't even exist."

"Thank you for protecting us from them," she said, and once again he laughed out loud.

"How do you know that's my job?" he asked.

"Strength and courage," she replied firmly. "I see it in your eyes. It's obvious, really, just as it was with Captain Harkness."

Ianto hesitated, opened his mouth to ask, then stopped. It was none of his business, and he didn't need the answer. He knew enough about Jack to understand her enigmatic comments about him when they'd visited, and exploring it could make things worse.

"You want to ask me about him," she said. She motioned for her lemonade, and Ianto handed it to her with a sheepish smile.

"You said something when we were here, about how he doesn't belong. That he's from nowhere." He finished his own drink and shrugged. "I suppose I was wondering what you meant by it."

"I didn't mean to hurt him, or you," she said after a moment. "Only I see things, and sometimes I can't help but mention them, without thinking of how it might affect others."

"Oh," said Ianto, searching for a response. "It's not that I was offended, or hurt. I understand why you might think that, but Jack…" He sighed. "I don't know how he took it, to be honest."

"He was startled," she replied. "And disappointed, I think. He's trying so hard to belong, and I think more than anywhere, or anytime, he's made a life for himself here and now."

"How could you possible know that?" Ianto murmured, then held up his hand before she could answer. "I know, I know—it's in his eyes."

"He'd much older than he looks, isn't he?" she asked, and Ianto nodded slowly. "His eyes were filled with deep shadows—so much pain and suffering. And yet also so much light, so much life. He's a study in contradictions really—great strength and yet so fragile beneath it all, so much darkness within him and yet so much love." She paused and looked him straight in the eye. "You are aware of the way he looks at you, are you not, Mr. Jones?"

Ianto could not have been more shocked and stuttered over a flustered answer. "He's my boss, and I'm general support for—"

"No, no," she said, sounding petulant and cross. "Not like that. You are much more than that." He didn't answer—what could he say? Admit to this kind old woman, who was still mostly a stranger, that he and Jack were lovers? He didn't want to give her a heart attack, after all.

"He looks _to_ you for strength and support, yes," she said. "But he looks _at_ you with much more. He cares about you a great deal, Mr. Jones. Take care with your heart—and his."

Ianto stared at her for so long she finally sighed and looked away. "I've gone and spoiled things, haven't I?" she said softly, sounding small and lost. "Spoken without thought and—"

"No!" he exclaimed, reaching for her hand and holding it tight. "You surprised me, that's all. You've spoiled nothing, I promise."

"So you'll come see me again, sometime?" she asked, her voice tremulous. "Because it is so very nice to have a young visitor again. I feel you have a great many stories to tell, and I would dearly like to hear them."

"If you'll tell me some of your own," said Ianto.

"I think I might," she said, smiling broadly. "Because I know you won't think me mad!"

"You may think I'm the mad one!" Ianto laughed. "The things I have seen…"

"This world is but a canvas to our imagination," she murmured. He recognized it a quotation of some sort, and a true one at that.

"I should get back to work," he said after a moment. "Perhaps I might come back in few weeks?"

"I would like that very much," she replied.

"Then it's a date," he said, standing up and moving behind her chair. "May I drive you home?"

She laughed and directed him back to her room, where he made sure she was settled before turning to leave. She reached out with a hand before he left.

"Tell me again that they're gone, Mr. Jones," she whispered, sounding tired and scared. He grasped her hand and leaned close, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled cheek.

"They're gone," he told her. "And we're watching now. We believe you, and we'll stop them again if we have to. Every time."

"Thank you, Ianto," she said, her eyes slipping closed. "Thank you."

He left with one last farewell, checking out at the front desk and walking slowly across the grounds back to his car. He thought he'd come to Providence Park to offer Christina some measure of peace, but found that she'd given it to him instead. Though he was still upset about the boy and worried about the future, he felt reassured by her gratitude and confidence. If the Ghostmaker did indeed ever return, they would stop them. Torchwood was ready.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cocktail Hour story for 'Something Borrowed' is a separate story entitled 'Cocktail Hour - Champagne'. It was far too long to include here! I hope you enjoyed Christina and Ianto's lemonade conversation. Thank you for reading!


	22. Coffee

22\. Coffee

Andy wasn't sure what he was doing there, why he had even come. He hadn't quite made up his mind about Rhys Williams, and could have let things with Gwen stand as they were. He was still pretty pissed off with her for blowing him off several times over the last week. Yet something niggled in the back of his mind about it all— about Gwen and Torchwood and the case that was mysteriously closed now. He suspected Gwen would never say anything to him about it, but he needed to know.

Nikki Bevan had given him an earful for getting Gwen involved. Andy felt terrible about it, and he wanted to know if it was worth it, if whatever she did with Captain Jack and the Scooby-Doo crew was worth the secrets and lies. Andy wasn't sure if she was allowed to talk to Rhys about her job, but if she did, maybe he could shine a light on it all. Maybe that was why he had called, which was why Andy had reluctantly agreed to meet at a local cafe by the station for coffee.

Quickly shaking hands, they ordered a cup of coffee and waited in awkward silence, eventually finding a table in the corner. Andy wasn't sure what to say; he was well aware Rhys Williams probably liked him about as much as he liked the other man.

"So, how's married life treating you?" he asked, thinking it was as good an opening as any. Rhys looked surprised at first, then nodded, a smile spreading across his face.

"Brilliant," he said.

"Everything you hoped for and more?" Andy asked, not bothering to hide the dry sarcasm. Rhys actually laughed.

"In some ways, yeah," he answered. "Most things haven't changed much, though. We just have a ring on our fingers now." He wiggled his ring finger, and Andy barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He wished he had a quick comeback, but he didn't. Not for that.

"You missed a hell of a ceremony, you know," Rhys said after a moment's pause.

Andy shrugged. "Had to work, sorry."

"Gwen pulled strings to get you the day off," Rhys said, shaking his head. "So, truth, why weren't you there? She missed you, you know. Is it really that thing you have for Gwen?"

Andy opened his mouth to protest, but Rhys waved him off.

"Look, you don't have to answer, only she's not as easy to live with as you'd think, mate. Especially with this Torchwood business."

"That is probably the most intelligent thing you've said in years," Andy muttered under his breath. Expecting Rhys to be angry, instead he glanced up to find the other man grinning at him.

"Torchwood drives you mad too, then? You should have seen them at the wedding, guns out and running after a bloody al…" He covered his mouth and coughed. "Well, you know them. Always causing a scene."

"And never talking about it," Andy replied. He toyed with the lid of his coffee cup. "Sounds like you know more than you're letting on."

"Maybe," Rhys replied, obviously lying. When Andy snorted his skepticism, Rhys held up his hands in defense. "Fine, I know more than I used to. I did marry in, after all. Had to sign the Official Secrets Act and everything."

"Get out," Andy replied, surprised. "It's real, then? The super-secret special ops thing?"

"You have no idea," Rhys murmured. "Highly classified and completely insane."

"Well, I wouldn't know, because no one tells me anything, no matter how much I cover up for them," Andy replied. He sipped at his coffee, the bitterness matching his own. "Damn, I could really use something stronger."

"I heard it was a tough case," Rhys said. "Gwen was pretty cut up last night."

"Oh, is that why we're meeting, so you can pull it out of me instead?" asked Andy. "Because I don't know a thing. She fobbed me off every chance she had, even left me standing on the dock to Flat Holm holding two coffees. Wasted three pounds fifty!"

Rhys blew out a breath. "I thought that might be the case. Look, I'm sorry for whatever she did. I know it can't have been easy."

"You don't have to apologize for her," Andy pointed out. "You only married her. You don't work for Torchwood."

"And I'm damn glad I don't." Andy gave him a skeptical look. "Seriously, Andy. The hours are shit, and Gwen is always coming home upset and injured. She's been bitten and scratched and even shot! You don't want that, trust me."

"Bitten?" asked Andy. Rhys shrugged.

"One of those ugly things they protect us mere mortals from, I guess. Look, I didn't come here to find out anything. I told you, Gwen was upset, and from what she said about things…I'm guessing she probably won't bother to follow up with you."

"So, you're what?" asked Andy. "The Torchwood head doctor? Checking up to make sure I'm not crying in my cups?"

Rhys snorted. "Hardly! I don't know what the hell's going on half the time. But she told me about the boy you were looking for, and that she found him."

Andy leaned forward, hoping to learn more. "Did she tell you what happened to him? Why his mum is so angry now? Because she didn't tell me shit!" He sat back, folding his arms over his chest. "I didn't bring her in to shut me out. I brought her in because once upon a time she cared, and she did everything she could to help. And with that fancy Captain Jack obviously involved, I figured Torchwood knew something, and that Gwen would help. Like she used to."

"And she did!" Rhys exclaimed, then lowered his voice. "She found the boy, didn't she?"

"Then why not tell me what's going on? He was my missing persons case."

"I don't think she can, mate," Rhys said, sounding genuinely regretful.

"Because she's so upset?" Andy scoffed. "Bullshit. She doesn't want to tell me because she's just like the lot of them now. Torchwood. Think they're better than everyone else, swanning around town like they own it. While the rest of us are just trying to protect it."

Rhys sighed. "Look, I'll tell you what I can, but I can't really explain much, because I don't understand most of it myself, all right?"

"All right," Andy nodded slowly. "But why?"

"Because Torchwood won't," Rhys replied. "And I know what it's like to be in the dark. And because you're a good copper, and a decent bloke."

"I ditched your wedding," Andy said.

"You wouldn't remember it anyway," Rhys told him. "It was a complete fiasco."

"Well, it's you and Gwen, it was bound to be, wasn't it?" Andy replied. He had a mental quota of digs he tried to get in at times like this.

"Very funny," Rhys replied, rolling his eyes. "I meant in the Torchwood sense."

"Torchwood covered up your wedding?" Andy asked, guessing immediately.

"Sure did. Bloody Torchwood." Andy shared a rare grin with Rhys, and half wished he'd gone to see the wedding mucked up. He focused instead on his reason for being there.

"So what's Jonah's story?" asked Andy.

"He was injured," Rhys said slowly. "I don't know exactly what happened, that's one thing I still don't understand, probably never will. Something bad happened to him, though. I know Torchwood tries to stop it when they can, and they try to help people who get hurt."

"And then they cover it up," Andy pointed out.

"They do," Rhys agreed. "Because they have to. Some of the things that Gwen's told me…I don't think the world is ready to know, Andy. They're just trying to protect us, and not only from the monsters."

Andy nodded, thinking about it and reluctantly wondering if Rhys was onto something. "And Nikki? Jonah's mum?"

"Gwen took her to see the boy. He's under Torchwood protection. They're taking care of him because they're the only ones who can." He swallowed. "Gwen said Nikki was furious, and not because her son was injured, but because Gwen told her what had happened, took her to see him. She said Gwen took away her hope."

Andy whistled under his breath. "I bet that didn't go over well with Gwen."

Rhys smiled. "You'd be right. She was devastated. I think it's why Torchwood hides so much, though. If a mum is that upset about knowing what happened to her missing kid, maybe she's better off not knowing anything at all."

"Gwen doesn't believe that, does she?"

"I don't know anymore," Rhys said with an unhappy shrug. "She's different, you know. She's changed. She said you gave her a hard time about it."

"I did," Andy admitted. "Because she wasn't going to help. The old Gwen would have jumped in feet first and done everything she could to find a missing child."

"And the old Gwen would have believed a mother should be with her child, no matter what, but…" Rhys trailed off. "I've seen things, Andy, and I'm starting to understand why sometimes it's better not to know. Maybe it's not that she thinks she's better than us…it's that she's knows more than us. She's seen and done things we can't even conceive of."

Andy shook his head in disappointment. "Bloody hell, you sound like you've been brainwashed with the rest of them. People deserve to know, Rhys. People deserve to know what's happened to their loved ones."

Rhys nodded. "I know, mate. Normally I'd agree, but it's a crazy world out there." He took a sip of coffee before continuing. "Gwen said they're doing everything they can to help Jonah, and to make sure nothing similar happens to anyone else. I think it's tough, though."

"Yes, well breaking up bar fights between drunk hooligans is hard, too," Andy pointed out. "That didn't change her perspective on drinking, did it?"

Rhys shrugged and finished his drink. "I suppose not. Look, I'm just trying to help. Believe me, I know how difficult it is to be half-involved with Torchwood."

"Oh, you know what it's like to be blown off at a crime scene?" asked Andy. "Tossed off the case without a reason? Lied to, used, and ignored—by a friend?"

"In a way," Rhys hedged, looking uncomfortable. "Gwen spent months making up stories about her job, running off at the drop of a hat the moment they called, no matter if we were in the middle of a date! Gone all night, injured, upset for some reason I could only guess at. Sometimes I wonder if she'll ever really tell me everything, official paper work or not."

Andy sighed. "I just wish they'd talk to those of us who help them. We can handle it. Tell her that for me, will you? _I_ can handle it—especially if you can. Because in the end, Gwen and I are both trying to do the same thing—the right thing—for Cardiff."

Andy stood to leave and Rhys joined him. "I'll put in a word for you, Andy," he said, shaking Andy's hand. "You're a good man."

"Yeah, well it takes a better man than me to marry into the madness," Andy replied. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks," Rhys laughed. "Sometimes I definitely need it!"

They left the café and parted ways on the pavement. Andy walked back to the station, thinking about some of the things Rhys had said, and some of the things he hadn't. He thought he understood Torchwood a little better, but it didn't lessen his frustration with Gwen. They really were doing the same job—protecting the people of Cardiff—only from different perspectives, with a different approach, and using different specializations, perhaps. She could trust him, _Torchwood_ could trust him, and he hoped that one day they all would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Taamar for several lines in this! I wasn't sure about a Rhys and Andy drabble and she pushed me to it, dropped some lines, and read through it. Any mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!


	23. Fragments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A series of four drabbles to go with the episode 'Fragments', featuring each of the team's first drinks with Jack. I included Suzie because we know nothing about how she joined Torchwood, and left out Gwen because we see her have a drink with Jack in 'Everything Changes.'

 

i. Godfather

Suzie sat at the bar, angrily fingering a cocktail napkin as she sipped her drink. It was her second, and yet she was still too agitated to think straight. Her job was crap, her boss a complete imbecile. She had half a mind to tender her resignation by certified mail and never set foot in the damn place again, yet she also wanted to deliver the blistering exit speech she was composing in her head.

Either way, she was done. She was not going back and nothing would stop her. She could do better than some dead-end lab position; she needed to be somewhere where she could do something that mattered, that made a difference. Someplace where people weren't looking over her shoulder, where she was allowed the freedom to do what she was capable of doing.

The problem was that Suzie had no idea what that was or where it might be. And that was terrifying—the thought of being without a job, without an income, without a home. Without a life. She wasn't close enough to her family to ask them for help, and she didn't have any friends she could go to either. She was alone, and sick and tired of her job. She needed a change.

Someone slid onto the stool next to her; she ignored him. Finishing her drink, she set it down and was about to motion for another when the man spoke. He had a jarring American accent.

"What're you drinking?" he asked, far too cheerful for the late-night crowd at The Lantern's Edge. She didn't even bother looking at him.

"None of your business," she replied.

"Oh, is that a new one?" he asked. She could almost _hear_ him grinning. "Let me guess— heavy on the bitters."

She turned to look at him and found herself facing an exceptionally attractive middle-aged man. Gorgeous brown hair, bright blue eyes, classic air with the old-fashioned clothes and coat. She narrowed her eyes at him, immediately suspicious. He looked like a two-bit player, charismatic but swarmy.

"Scotch and amaretto," she replied, turning away. She tried not to sigh in frustration; she wanted another drink and wasn't about to let some prat run her off from her favorite barstool.

"Ah, a godfather," the man said, nodding. He waved at the barman; he was wearing a leather wrist strap that she hoped wasn't some sort of kinky fetish wear. Being hit on was bad enough; leather was not one of her interests.

The man ordered two, and that's when Suzie decided she needed to put him off, and put him off fast. "Look," she started, and he held up a hand to stop her.

"I know," he said. "You're not interested, because you've had a bad day and you want to be alone."

"Exactly," she said. "I'm glad you understand." He continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"Drinking alone is not as fun, though," he said. "And you should be interested. I mean, look at this jawline." He ran a hand across his jaw and wagged his eyebrows. Susie didn't even glance at him. He leaned closer.

"But the bad day I understand. You've got a crap job. You're underused there, they don't appreciate you, and your boss is a prick." She turned to look at him in surprise. "Am I right, Suzie?"

"How do you know my name?" she hissed, tempted to grab him by the collar and shove him away.

"Because I've been watching you, Suzie Costello," he said, the flirtatious innuendo gone and replaced by an almost deadly seriousness. "Captain Jack Harkness, and I want to offer you a new job."

She snorted as the barman set down their drinks. Taking it up, the stranger raised his glass with a raised eyebrow. "Interested?"

She should say no. She should leave, run away, forget it ever happened. But Suzie wanted more, and if there was any chance this man could offer it, she would follow him.

"Nice to meet you, Captain," she replied. "Tell me more."

* * *

ii. Sidecar

Tosh sat back with a sigh, running a hand across her face as she tried to bring her scattered thoughts into order. It had been the most insane week of her life, and that day in particular had been more intense than any other leading up to it.

She'd first walked into the Hub five days ago, instantly overwhelmed yet also filled with a desperate hope that this was where she was meant to be, what she was supposed to be doing. Captain Harkness—he had insisted she call him Jack, but she still didn't feel quite comfortable—had somehow negotiated her freedom from UNIT, and she couldn't be more grateful to be out of that hell hole. At the same time, she was now contracted to Torchwood for five years, and she worried that those five years might feel like forever if she didn't fit in and enjoy the work.

After the first week on the job, she was glad she had accepted the offer. The things she'd seen and done in such a short amount of time had been amazing. Most of it had been research, getting to know the Hub systems and equipment, learning alien technology. She'd started firearms training with Captain Harkness—and wasn't that interesting and probably very unorthodox—and had learned about Weevils and how to restrain and capture them. She'd not encountered one until that morning, however, when two had been spotted in a local park and all three of them had gone out on the call.

It had been her first opportunity to put her training to practice…and she'd frozen. Oh, she'd recovered quick enough, and they'd got rid of the Weevils, and no one had been hurt even if there had been a lot of blood on the captain's shirt (from the Weevil, he'd said, though she suspected he was keeping secrets, since she was fairly certain Weevil blood wasn't the same bright red as human blood.) She was disappointed in herself, though, and if she were honest, she doubted whether she was cut out to be a field agent. She could run the technology in the Hub with one hand behind her back, but actually fighting monsters? She wasn't sure she would ever learn to embrace the danger, and she wondered if she should talk to the captain about it.

Tosh glanced around the Hub, looking for her coworkers. As usual, Suzie was completely engaged in whatever piece of tech she was working with. She was even more intense than Tosh when it came to studying the new artifacts they retrieved from the mysterious Rift, or plucked out of the disorganized Archives on slow days. Suzie only seemed to work with weaponry, though; Tosh was glad she was able to work with the computer systems and other technologies on her own.

It was past lunch, and Tosh was hungry, but the captain wasn't in his office, and she still wasn't quite sure of their schedule and procedures. With another sigh, she turned back to her computer, completely forgetting what she had been working on. Blinking a few times to focus, she thought about seeing if there were any snacks around, then jumped when a hand touched her on the shoulder.

"You look tired," said Captain Harkness, smiling down at her. At times like these, when he was friendly and open and supportive, Tosh liked him dearly; other times he was dark and mysterious and frightening.

"A bit," she admitted. "But mostly hungry."

He glanced at his watch and nodded. "Then it's time for lunch. Come on, my treat."

He headed to his office and came back out wearing his greatcoat. Though it enhanced the image of him as a mysterious hero, it was somewhat old-fashioned and odd. Still, she was growing to like it, as it fit his style and personality. He raised an eyebrow. "Coming?"

She scrambled for her coat and purse as he turned to Suzie. "We're going out for lunch, can we get you anything?"

Suzie looked up, eyes glancing back and forth between them. "My usual, thanks." Then she went right back to her work, apparently not bothered by the lack of an invitation to join them.

As they stepped into the lift, Tosh said something. "Shouldn't we ask her to join us? I hate leaving her behind."

"I prefer someone remain in the Hub during the day," the captain said. He tapped the leather band on his wrist. "Unless, of course, you can think of a way to hook up the alert system with this?"

She glanced at him in surprise. "I'm sure I could," she said. "If you give me some time to study it."

He grinned at her. "Absolutely. You can work on it this afternoon." They exited the lift into the abandoned tourist office. "Also, I told Suzie I wanted to check in on you after the Weevil chase this morning, so she's fine with us going out alone. I think she prefers the quiet."

"She does seem very focused," Tosh offered. Anti-social as well, but she didn't say anything. She sensed Suzie was as introverted as she was, and given the other woman's obvious intelligence, Tosh hoped they might become friends once they grew to know one another.

"That's a very polite way of putting it," the captain laughed. They left the tourist office and started to walk across the quay. Jack talked about the area and the renovations over the last several years. Tosh wondered how long he had been living in Cardiff, as he seemed to know more about the city than anyone, then listened with interest as the stories began to veer into Torchwood territory, with tales of aliens and ships and rifts in time.

They eventually came to a small pub, The Lantern's Edge, tucked away between two other shops, and he led her toward a table in the back. "Fish and chips sound good? They've got the best on the bay."

"Sounds perfect," she said. He walked up to the bar to place their order, and returned after a few minutes with two drinks. To Tosh's surprise, it was alcoholic.

"Drinking on the job?" she asked lightly. Maybe it would help her relax.

The captain laughed. "Just the one. You look like you could use it."

She smiled and took another sip. It was quite good. "Thank you. What is it?"

"Sidecar," he replied. A nostalgic look crossed his face as he leaned back. "Popular during the war."

"The one that goes with your coat?" she asked, surprised at her boldness. If there was one thing she'd learned since meeting Captain Harkness, it was that he didn't give up personal information lightly.

"The very same," he laughed. "I'm a big history fan." Before she could ask him more, he leaned forward. "So how has your first week been? Honestly?"

Tosh took another sip of her drink. "Nothing like what I expected."

He nodded. "In a good way or a bad way?"

She grinned and met his eyes. "In a good way. It's…it's amazing. Thank you for the chance to see all this, to know there's more out there."

He reached out and squeezed her hand. "Don't thank me yet," he murmured. "It can be as dark and difficult as it is amazing."

"I understand," she said. "I think I experienced some of that this morning."

"You did good out there, you know," Jack said. "With the Weevils. You may not think so, but you did."

She shook her head. "I don't know if I'm cut out for chasing aliens, but everything else…it's incredible. I feel like I'm doing something important, and that's what matters."

"I knew I picked you for a reason," he said. Their food arrived then. "Tuck in and drink up!" he said. "Because you're just getting started, Toshiko Sato!"

Tosh knew that he was right, and that her life would never be the same. And yet, it was better than she could have hoped. She did not dread her five years with Torchwood, but looked forward to exploring the universe with Captain Harkness.

* * *

iii. Whiskey Sour

Owen didn't like losing—losing money, losing games, and especially losing people. He was a doctor, and he was supposed to save people, not watch them die. That's why he was there, to try and make sense of his own loss, to ensure that others didn't suffer the way Katie had suffered. But this time he had failed, and he had lost.

He'd followed Jack Harkness to Torchwood a fortnight ago, and he hadn't looked back once. He'd known from the moment he'd walked into the cavernous workspace called the Hub that Torchwood was dark and dangerous and incredibly damaged. Three people running the place, trying to protect Cardiff from rampaging aliens and rifts in time? That was messed up, which was why he fit in perfectly.

He was damaged too, and the darkness of Torchwood called to him. Yet it also motivated him: he would not let it claim anyone else. So when it had taken an older couple out walking their dog in the wrong place at the wrong time, Owen reacted poorly. He swore and he raged and he kicked his chair, until Jack came down to the medical bay and motioned him out.

Owen assumed he'd be called to the carpet in Jack's office for his tantrum, maybe even sent packing with one of the little white pills they called Retcon. Only Jack had tossed Owen his jacket, grabbed his own, and led him to the invisible lift. They were silent the entire time. Owen wondered when the other shoe was going to drop.

The SUV was still parked on the Plass. Jack took the ticket from the windshield and pocketed it with a roll of his eyes. He pointed to the passenger side and Owen got in as Jack started the car, still silent. When they pulled away, Owen had to ask what was going on.

"Where're we going?" he asked. Jack grinned at him in that infuriating way he had. Two weeks on the job, and Owen knew it would only be a matter of time before he punched that grin off the man's face.

"Dinner and drinks," Jack replied.

Owen snorted. "Didn't fancy you the type," he replied. Jack laughed out loud. "And you're not mine."

"You don't know me very well then," he replied. "Because I am everyone's type."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Seriously, where are we going?"

Jack shrugged. "I was serious. You need a break. Dinner and drinks."

"There better not be any dancing," Owen grumbled.

Jack drove to the other side of the Quay and parked. They walked to a small pub, The Lantern's Edge, where they settled at the bar. "Tab's on me," Jack said. "Whatever you want, though the fish and chips are good."

"Liquor too?" Owen asked.

"As much as you can handle," Jack said. Owen laughed.

"I can handle a lot," he said. He called the barman over and ordered a whiskey sour. If Harkness was paying, he may as well take advantage of it. "Make it a double," he added.

Jack ordered tonic water and some food, and Owen followed suit. They drank in silence for a long moment, until Jack spoke.

"It's hard losing people," he started. Owen immediately waved him off.

"Spare me the pep talk," he snapped. "I'm a doctor, I know what I got myself into."

"It's different," Jack pointed out. "With Torchwood."

"It's messier," Owen agreed. "Although I saw some crazy shit in the A&E back in London, so you'd think I'd be used to it."

"I don't think you ever get used to violent death," said Jack. "Especially by alien."

Owen laughed bitterly and took a long sip of his drink. "Death by alien. Christ, I never thought I'd have to put that on a death certificate."

Jack ran his finger around the edge of his glass. "There will be worse," he said. "Watching someone get ripped apart by a Hoix is only a part of what you'll see if you stay."

Owen turned to him in surprise. "If I stay?" he asked. "So you really are thinking of Retconning me out of service already?"

"No, but I'm offering," said Jack. "If you want to forget what happened today and go back to London, I can make it happen. I can get you a good job in a good practice someplace where you'll never have to deal with aliens again. Because it will get worse."

"Forget it," Owen snapped. "I'm staying. Don't patronize me, Harkness. My fiancé died because of a fucking alien parasite, so I'm going to damn well do my best to stop other people from going through the same."

Jack glanced down into his glass and smiled. "I thought you'd say that, but I also thought I'd offer anyway."

"Fuck you," Owen replied half-heartedly. "And don't threaten me again."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Who's the boss here?"

"You are," said Owen. "But I'm the doctor, so I'll evaluate the mental health of the staff, thank you very much."

"Including yourself?"

"Including myself," said Owen. "I'm doing this, Jack. I'm not quitting because I saw a man get disemboweled today. I'll have a few drinks, get up in the morning, and go back to work to try and stop it from happening again."

There was a strong hand on his shoulder. "Good man," said Jack. "Have another drink." He motioned the barman over and ordered another whiskey sour for Owen. Their food arrived and they tucked in, talking casually about some of the other cases they'd had that week before Jack started telling stories. Owen had noticed that Jack's storied tended toward more bluster than substance, but then again, he also seemed to know what he was talking about when it came to Torchwood. Owen had another drink, and then a third. When Jack started going on about banging a triple-breasted alien bounty hunter, he decided that even if the man was lying, maybe Jack Harkness wasn't quite so bad.

Torchwood, however, would probably be the death of him.

* * *

iv. Vesper Martini

Pulling the door shut behind him, Ianto turned and locked it, letting his head rest against the cool metal for a moment. He was so tired. He should try to sleep, either in Lisa's room or back at the dingy, unpacked flat he called home, but he knew he wouldn't. He was running on caffeine and adrenaline, and felt the constant, incessant drive to be doing something, anything.

At first it was getting Lisa in, getting her situated in the life support unit and comfortable. Sometimes it was research, and trying to stay hidden as he desperately searched for something in the archives to help her. Yet most of the time it was simply the need to stay busy, to do something, _anything,_ to bring order to the chaos that was his life before he succumbed to despair. And given that Torchwood Three was nothing but chaos and disorder, Ianto found there was always sometime to do. Something to file, to find, to clean, to repair.

The sad thing was, he enjoyed the work. In another time, another place, he could have been happy there, running Torchwood Three behind the scenes. He missed some of his old duties from London, but found he was good at what Torchwood Three needed: a strong and competent general administrator. Despite recent trauma (or perhaps because of it), he was focused and organized. He knew what needed to be done, and he knew how to get it done on time. Plus, he made damn good coffee. After a few missteps, he'd settled into the job and found it suited him. The nature of the work allowed him to frequently disappear downstairs to check on Lisa, and the sheer amount of work kept him distracted when he couldn't.

Turning to head back upstairs, he checked his watch only to realize it was well past nine o'clock. The others would have certainly gone home, but it was likely Jack was still around as Ianto hadn't heard otherwise on the coms, and he always tried to be aware of Jack's comings and goings.

He told himself it was so he could better monitor Lisa in secret, but Ianto had to admit he was fascinated by the enigmatic leader of Torchwood Three. Jack Harkness was both everything he'd heard at Torchwood One, and nothing like the man Yvonne Hartmann had hated with a passion. He could be charismatic but cruel, flippant yet serious at the same time, shallow with hidden depths. Ianto wanted to hate him, but he also wanted to trust him; instead he felt trapped in limbo, flirting with the older man and enjoying it even as he wanted to rail at the captain for everything that had gone wrong since Canary Wharf and punch the smile off Harkness's too handsome face.

When he saw that Jack's office was empty, Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. He could either get some work done in silence, or go home for the night and wallow in the misery of his life. He decided to go for the latter and was shutting down his computer when he heard footsteps on the walkway above him.

"Ianto!" called Jack, flirtatious cheerfulness filling his voice even at the late hour. "I thought you'd left with the others!"

"It would appear that I remained," Ianto replied dryly. He didn't bother turning, since he knew he'd find Jack and that thousand-watt grin staring back, or perhaps even worse. He was fairly sure he'd caught the captain leering at him more than once, but wasn't sure whether it was part of the game Jack played in projecting the playboy image, or if he was truly that lecherous. Or actually interested. Either way, Ianto didn't want to deal with it and continued to shut down his station. "I am, however, on my way home now, sir."

"It's long after hours," Jack said. "Why not drop the 'sir' and have a drink with me?"

Ianto glanced up to see Jack leaning on the railing. He was not leering, but looked genuinely interested.

"What?" Ianto asked, thinking he had misunderstood.

"Before you dash out only to dash back in far too early for any rational employee," Jack articulated slowly, "come have a drink in my office. Or we could walk to The Lantern's Edge."

"Oh." Ianto tucked his hands into his pockets. He wanted to leave, and leave fast. He did _not_ want to drink with Jack Harkness. He suspected it was even more dangerous than chasing Weevils. "Is that an—"

He was going to say "invitation?" but Jack interrupted him. "An order? No, but I'd like to sit down and touch base about a few things. If you don't have a hot date or anything, that is," he added.

Ianto ducked his head so Jack didn't see the anguished look on his face. Of course he didn't have a date. She was strapped into a life support unit downstairs, sedated unconscious to keep the pain at bay. He pushed the thought away, that he might never go on another date again, and looked up with a blank look on his face. "No, sir, no date. I could stay for a few minutes. What did you wish to discuss?"

Jack smiled as if he meant it and made his way toward his office. "I won't take up too much of your time—unless you want me to," he added with one of those damn winks.

Ianto affected a long-suffering sigh. "I don't usually offer my free time up for unpaid harassment, no," he replied.

"Too bad," Jack laughed as Ianto followed him into his office. He felt like a mouse following a lion into its cave. "I'm quite good at harassment."

"I imagine you are, sir," Ianto murmured. Jack grinned again, motioning at Ianto to sit down, and began to pour them both a drink. To Ianto's surprise, it was more than a sip of scotch, which tended to be Jack's usual evening drink after a difficult case. Then again, Ianto had only been working in the Hub for three weeks, and had never had a drink with the other man; it seemed inevitable that Jack drank more than scotch, just as Ianto drank more than whiskey and beer.

Jack handed him a glass Ianto half suspected had been prepared ahead of time, then sat down behind his desk. He raised his own glass in a toast and grinned. "And yet you're still not interested," Jack replied.

Ianto took a sip of his drink, unable to contain his surprise. "Vesper martini," he said with a pleased nod. He decided to play along. It seemed to keep Jack satisfied, and Ianto had to admit he enjoyed it as well. "I never said I wasn't. What were you interested in _talking_ about, sir?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You want the real answer or the bullshit answer?"

"I can guess the latter, so the former, please." He took another sip of the drink: vodka, gin, with a touch of lillet blanc and a splash of lemon. He wondered why Jack had chosen that particular drink. "This is quite good. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And the real answer is Torchwood." At Ianto's questioning look, he continued. "More specifically, you and Torchwood." He paused, tapped his desk a few times, and leaned forward. "How are you settling in here, Ianto?"

Ianto set down his glass in surprise, his heart racing. Had Jack found out his secret? "I thought I was settling in well, sir. Has my performance left something to be desired?"

Jack sighed and sat back. "I knew you were going to say that." He took a sip of his martini and shook his head. "Ianto, this place is running better than it has in years. It looks amazing, you're making brilliant progress on the archives, and your coffee keeps us alive most days."

"Oh." Once again Ianto was speechless. "Was there another problem, then?"

"I never said there was a problem," Jack replied. "Unless you have any concerns. I wanted to check in, see how you're doing after what happened in London…"

He trailed off, clearing putting the ball in Ianto's court. He took a deep sip of the martini, relishing the delicious burn of the liquor down his throat. Then he set down his glass and glanced up, meeting Jack's eyes. They were filled with nothing but concern, and Ianto felt his heart leap into his throat. It would be so easy to say something, to tell Jack everything—to confess his sins and beg for help.

Something held him back. He was scared, for one: Jack could be harsh when he needed to be, and Ianto knew Jack might execute Lisa as quickly as he might try to help her. And though Ianto wanted to trust Jack, he did not trust himself. Did he want to tell Jack to garner help and support, or so that Jack could end it for him, one way or the other? Or did he want to tell Jack because he was attracted to him? He hated lying to Jack and often felt the urge to tell him everything, but Ianto couldn't condemn Lisa to death because he felt the urge to get it off with his exceptionally attractive boss.

So he didn't say anything about his dying girlfriend and locked her away in his heart where only he could see her, touch her, feel her.

"I'm fine," he said, then held up a hand when Jack looked skeptical. "I'm…dealing. It's been challenging, I admit. But that's why I'm here, sir. To move on with my life. To continue, no matter how hard it gets." He felt like he was trying to convince himself as much as Jack.

Jack sighed and nodded. "I understand. Look, you're doing good work here…great work…but don't overwork yourself, okay? You don't have to stay late every night, be the first here every morning. And if you ever need a day off, those are available."

"And what would I do with a day off?" Ianto asked, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. The thought terrified him. It felt like being banished from the Hub, from Lisa. It wasn't as if he'd go out, spend a day at the park, or take in a film. He had a job to do, and that was take care of Lisa. Taking care of the rest of Torchwood Three was secondary, as much as it was needed and necessary.

"You've been back in Cardiff for what? A month? Six weeks since Canary Wharf?" Jack asked. Ianto nodded, avoiding looking at the captain. "Do you have family in the area? Friends?"

Ianto abruptly slammed back the rest of his drink and stood up. How could he answer Jack's question without incriminating himself in some way? Yes, he had family, but he wasn't close to them. No, he didn't have any friends, because they'd all died in London. Except his girlfriend, who was barely recognizable and still in desperate pain as she waited for him to save her. Only he was too busy running Torchwood, saving the world instead, and enjoying it. Hell, he even liked being in Jack's office, sitting across from him, having a drink as if they were friends, enjoying the attention, thinking about more until his heart once again reigned in his traitorous libido.

Jack looked startled and stood with him. "I should go, sir," Ianto replied, his voice stiff. "Thank you for the drink." He turned to leave and heard Jack sigh behind him. As he came to the doorway, a hand on his shoulder stopped him, turned him around, rubbed comforting circles into tense muscles. At that moment, it was all Ianto could do to not break down.

"I'm sorry if I hit a nerve," Jack said quietly. "But I meant what I said: don't work too hard, take the time if you want it, and if you need anything…" He trailed off with a conspicuous lack of innuendo. Jack was serious in his concern, and it almost unmanned Ianto.

"Thank you," he said quietly, and he meant it. He'd never take Jack up on the offer, but somehow it helped, the smallest bit, to think that maybe Jack was concerned, that he really did care about his team. Ianto could never go to the captain, though; he'd save Lisa himself and take her far away to recover in peace. And if he missed Torchwood Three and the Hub and its enigmatic captain, then it was his own fault for growing too attached.

Jack nodded, his eyes slipping down to Ianto's lips. Ianto couldn't help but glance at Jack's mouth as well, then shook his head to distract himself from the sight and the thoughts accompanying it. He offered what he knew was a wan smile. "Good night, sir." And he turned to leave. It felt so much like the night Jack had offered him the job, when it would have been so easy to reach up and brush his lips against Jack's, but Ianto kept his shoulders straight and refused to shed any more tears as he once again walked away.

Jack followed him from the office, then stood on the steps and watched him leave. "Someday I will convince you to call me Jack!" he called out as Ianto hurried toward the exit, determined to get home and quite possibly drink himself to sleep.

"Perhaps," Ianto said. He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned around to offer Jack a small private smile. "See you tomorrow, Jack."

Jack pumped a fist in the air and laughed. Ianto rolled his eyes and left the scene behind him. He refused to think about Jack and his laugh and his vesper martini, or Lisa and her pain and her suffering. He refused to think about anything. Sometimes it was too much. Sometimes he wanted it all to end and didn't give a damn whether he got his happily ever after as long as the nightmare was over.

He hated the thought of losing Lisa, but other times he hated the thought of leaving Torchwood, and Jack, even more.

And so, split in two, Ianto went home to his dark flat, haunted by dreams of metal breasts and chocolate skin, and by leather braces and blue eyes. He didn't sleep, and in the morning the nightmare simply started over.


	24. Scotch

24\. Scotch

Ianto poured himself a healthy measure of scotch and brought it to his lips with a silent toast to his lost friends. It was a 16 year Lagavulin, deep and dark and rich. Owen had surprised Ianto with it as a gift for his twenty-fifth birthday, and he had been saving it for special occasions only. Remembering the doctor seemed the perfect reason for pulling it out of the cabinet and enjoying a glass or two.

He leaned against the counter and sighed as the strong liquor coated his throat, burning in a good, strong way. It was exactly what he needed, and he felt tense muscles begin to relax. Or maybe he was simply exhausted and couldn't stay upright much longer.

It had been three days since the bombs had gone off, since Jack had disappeared, and Owen and Tosh had died. Three days of pain and loss and constant work, and Ianto still didn't see an end to it. He'd spent the first twenty-four hours helping coordinate relief operations across the city with Gwen, while keeping a close eye on Jack. His lover had seemed more traumatized than any of them, but then he had been buried for two thousand years and still refused to talk about it. Jack had finally sent Gwen home and dragged Ianto to bed before he collapsed, but after a brief kip in the bunk, Ianto had got up, showered, thrown on the spare clothes he kept at the Hub, and went right back to it. There was too much to do.

And staying busy meant he didn't have to think about everything that had happened. He could do his job and set aside the almost debilitating sense of emptiness he felt without Tosh and Owen by his side, doing it with him. He could almost forget that he would never see them again, because Owen was truly gone this time, and they had no more gloves to bring back Tosh. Work, as usual, would be his savior.

With a sigh, he finished his drink and poured another. He eyed the pain pills on the counter and decided he'd take them with a big glass of water once he'd finished his drink and found something to eat. Though he'd been taking something from the Hub, pills Owen had often given them over the years, these were a prescription from the local A&E. He'd injured his shoulder in the first bombing at the warehouse, and though Jack had set it for him, he'd never stopped to have it examined. Once the adrenaline started to wear off, it began to hurt, until Ianto could barely move it. He should have iced it, rested it, anything, but it had been crisis after crisis, and their doctor was dead. Ianto was rubbish at taking care of himself, but he could work through pain like few others.

It had finally become too much, however. Ianto had told Jack he needed to leave early and check in with his sister before heading home for the night, but he had gone to A&E instead to make sure nothing was torn or out of place given the lingering severity of the pain. The joint was severely inflamed, and the doctor had prescribed rest along with the pain pills, then gentle stretching to help it recover. He had also given Ianto a sling to immobilize his shoulder; while he hated wearing it because he couldn't do anything with his entire left arm, he had to admit that it felt good to have the sore joint supported. He still wasn't sure why he hadn't told Jack his shoulder was bothering him; it seemed easier to keep it to himself. Jack was struggling with his own recovery, both mental and emotional, and didn't need to know.

Thinking about his sister, Ianto realized that while he had texted her in the immediate aftermath of the bombings, he had promised to call, but had been too busy since then. He dialed her number before he forgot, then sat down at his small kitchen table with a bag of stale crisps, wishing he had a good pizza in front of him. Mushrooms and peppers, like Tosh had enjoyed.

"Ianto!" Rhiannon exclaimed without even offering a greeting. "It's about time you called. Are you all right?"

Startled, he took a moment to reply. After all, nothing was all right anymore, not with Tosh and Owen gone and the city still recovering from Gray's insane attacks, but he couldn't actually tell her any of that, could he? At least, not the real story. "Hi Rhi," he finally replied. "Yeah, I'm fine. Everything still okay over there?"

"I told you before, we're all fine, nothing happened here. Things are even going back to normal, although people will be talking about it for weeks. How are you?"

"Busy," he replied automatically, then almost kicked himself. His sister thought he was a civil servant. Why would he be busy?

"Too busy to call apparently?" she asked, and he sighed.

"I'm sorry, but yes, it's been busy. Everyone is doing something to help with the cleanup, after all. Even us."

"You should come by," she said. "You sound exhausted."

"There's still too much to do," Ianto said. She raised her voice again.

"Bollocks!" she said. "What does it matter if you haven't got your health, your family? I want to be sure you're okay, Ianto. You said it was chaos that night."

"It was," he said. "But I'm fine, I'm recovering." As soon as he said it, he knew he'd slipped again. He was too tired to care.

"What do you mean, you're recovering?" Rhiannon practically yelled through the phone. "Were you hurt? You didn't say anything about being injured!"

"I wasn't, not really," he assured her, then backtracked. "I hurt my shoulder, that's all. Dislocated it, but it popped right back in." He didn't tell her that it had been dislocated when he'd been caught in an earlier bomb, or that his boss-slash-lover had put it in place, or that it had hurt like hell ever since. "I had it looked at today at A&E. No damage, I only need to rest and take care of it." Which would be hard, working for Torchwood and down two team members, but he had no choice.

"Ianto Jones, you're a bloody idiot," she said, but now she sounded more sad than angry. "Do you need anything? Any help? Food, that sort of thing?"

"Cardiff's still a bit hard to get around," Ianto told her, not wanting her anywhere near the damaged parts of the city. "I'll be fine."

"You'll be here for Sunday dinner," she stated, and he frowned.

"Rhi, I can't just pick up and swan off," he started, but she interrupted him yet again.

"It's Sunday, Ianto. What's there to do on a Sunday? On top of you being injured! You should be home resting!"

"I…" He trailed off. "Fine, I'll be there, as long as there aren't any funerals that day." He let his head fall to the table with a silent groan.

"What do you mean by funerals?" she said. "Ianto, did you know anyone who…well, who died that night?"

He took a deep breath. He couldn't tell her everything, but he could tell her that much, at least. "Yes," he said, his voice quiet. He sat up and took another sip of his scotch. "Two of my coworkers were killed."

"Oh, Ianto," she said, her voice heavy with sadness and concern. "I'm so sorry. Are you sure you're okay being alone right now?"

He allowed a bitter laugh to escape and finished his scotch. All right? Probably not for a very long time. Alone? He was used to that. "It's been hard," he admitted. "But we're getting there. I don't know when the funerals will be, if there will even be one with …" He trailed off. They didn't have a body for Owen, how could they have a funeral for him? And Tosh…Ianto couldn't imagine how he'd survive seeing her laid out, pale and unmoving. He wiped away a tear.

"Of course there will," she said. "And if you need someone to go with you, I'm here for you. Do you hear me? We're all here for you, Ianto."

"Thank you," he whispered. He was startled by a loud knock at the door and swore.

"What's wrong?" Rhiannon asked, sounding panicked.

"Someone at the door," he replied with a nervous laugh. "Startled me. Look, I should see who it is, in case it's one of the neighbors. Ms. Jameson is always coming up with excuses to check on me. I'll call in a day or two, okay?"

"You'd better," she said. "Take care of that shoulder, and don't forget dinner on Sunday."

"I won't," Ianto promised, although he was fairly certain something would come up before then.

"I mean it, Ianto. Don't blow me off. We're family, you and I. Let me help."

"Thanks, Rhi," he said, standing and moving toward the door. Someone was insistent. Ianto half assumed it was Jack, though Jack usually called or texted before coming over. "I've got to go. Say hi to the kids and be careful, okay?"

They said their farewells and Ianto tucked his phone away as he opened the door. He was surprised to find Gwen standing there, Rhys a step behind her and looking embarrassed. Gwen appeared both worried and upset, her hand poised for another hard pounding. Ianto held back a sigh; he'd been hoping to stay home and rest without interruption, especially from Gwen.

"Ianto!" she exclaimed, stepping back and bumping into Rhys. "You're back!"

"Back from—oh right," He remembered his reason for leaving early. "Yes, I got home a little while ago. Is everything all right?"

"Oh, well, yes, only…" She trailed off, looking uncertainly at Rhys. The other Welshman rolled his eyes and stepped forward.

"Sorry, mate. I tried to talk her out of barging over here, but I haven't quite figured out the trick to defusing her yet."

"Rhys!" she said, frowning. Ianto recognized the gentle teasing, and saw that she was too upset to play back. So rather than be short with her, he shook his head and smiled as best as he could.

"It's fine, Rhys. What's going on? Is there an emergency?"

"No, not really," she said. "But have you seen Jack? He left several hours ago, only he didn't say where he was going, didn't come back to the Hub, hasn't checked in. He's not answering his phone or texts, and I'm worried that he might have…or that he might be…" She trailed off, looking pleadingly at him.

It was obvious Gwen thought Jack might have left. Ianto had the same fear, that after all that his brother had done, after losing Tosh and Owen, Jack might leave them again. Call the Doctor, pack up, and leave the planet for good. Ianto would never voice it, and he tried to bury his fear and pretend it didn't exist, but it was there nonetheless; he understood why Gwen was so scared. He shook his head again and invited them inside. If something was going on with Jack, they should probably figure it out in private, and not in the middle of the corridor.

"I've been out most of the afternoon, haven't heard from him," said Ianto as they stood near the door. "I'm sure he's probably just busy, unable to answer …cell phone coverage isn't great right now…or maybe he's off chasing Weevils on his own."

"He's right here," said a voice behind them, and they all turned to find Jack standing in the hallway that led down to the two bedrooms and bathroom. He looked tired and rumpled, his voice low as he wiped sleep from his eyes and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Jack!" exclaimed Gwen. "Thank god! Why haven't you answered your phone?"

Jack shrugged. "Didn't hear it. Maybe it's dead. And I've been asleep…" He checked his watch. "For several hours now. Huh. Everything okay at the Hub?"

"Yes," she said, sounding put out. "Except for not being able to reach you when you didn't come back!"

"Did you need me for something specific?" he asked rather pointedly, and she stuttered to a stop.

"Well, no," she said. "I was worried, that's all."

Jack waved her away. "I'm fine, Gwen. Go home. Get some rest before you collapse too."

Rhys took her arm and nodded. "He's right, love," he said. "You've been going nonstop for days. Let's go home, get a good night's sleep, and you can get back to it in the morning."

"Oh, um," she seemed unsure of what to do now that she had found Jack. Ianto found it both amusing and irritating, but wanted her to leave so he could talk to Jack and find out why he was hiding out in Ianto's flat.

"All right, only…" She paused and scrunched up her nose. "What are you doing here? And why didn't you say he was here, Ianto? When I asked if you'd seen Jack, you said you hadn't."

"And I hadn't," said Ianto with a shrug. He really needed another drink to deal with this. "I had no idea he was here. Why are you here?" he asked, turning to Jack.

Jack smiled crookedly. "Honestly? I wanted to get away, and this seemed like the best place. I thought I'd wait for you to get back from your sister's, then we could get something to eat, maybe watch a film, and call it an early night?"

He sounded unsure now that he was there and in front of an audience. From the corner of his eye, Ianto saw Rhys's eyes widen in surprise. Which was odd, because Rhys had seen them on the dance floor at the wedding and must have known that he and Jack were sleeping together. Perhaps it was different knowing that Jack spent the night at Ianto's, that they went out and stayed in and generally acted like a couple even if neither one of them was willing to call it that.

"Oh," said Ianto, trying to ignore the gaping audience as well. "That sounds good, although I'd rather order in if you don't mind?"

"Perfect," said Jack, beaming brightly. "And while we wait you can tell me why you lied and went to A&E instead of your sister's."

"Ianto!" Gwen exclaimed. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

Rhys shook his head in apparent exasperation. "Look at the man, Gwen. He dislocated his shoulder, remember? Is this the first you've had it looked at?"

Ianto nodded. "And it's fine, really. It'll be sore for a few weeks, but nothing torn, separated, or broken. I'm fine," he repeated, but both Jack and Gwen were watching him with worry and concern.

"Come on, Gwen," said Rhys, taking her hand and pulling gently. "Let's let them rest. We can stop by Tesco on the way home and pick up something for ourselves."

"Unless you'd like to stay?" Ianto offered without thinking. It was the polite thing to do, after all, and it would help stave off the inevitable confrontation with Jack about his shoulder. He saw Jack shake his head, Gwen frown, but once again it was Rhys who spoke.

"Thanks for the offer, mate," he said, "but you're both clearly knackered. You've earned a night off from Torchwood. Take it easy." He turned to leave. "Come on, Gwen."

She looked torn between staying and going. She dropped Rhys's hand and threw her arms around Ianto's neck, causing him to gasp in surprise and a little bit of pain. She squeezed harder than usual and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Be careful," she murmured. "We can't lose anyone else."

"It's my shoulder, Gwen," Ianto told her. "I'll be fine."

She turned to Jack and hugged him as well, though she did not kiss him on the cheek. "Take care of him," she said. "And charge your damn phone."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a smile. He wrapped an arm around Ianto's good shoulder and pulled him close. "We'll see you in the morning."

Rhys waved at them both as he took Gwen's hand again and they left. Ianto closed and locked the door behind them, dreading what he would find when he turned back to Jack.

"Pizza or pasta?" Jack asked, surprising him by not looking or sounding upset. He simply seemed tired and sad.

"Both," said Ianto. "With lots of bread and cheese."

"Usual?" Jack moved toward the kitchen to use the phone. Ianto followed and remembered his earlier thought.

"No, mushroom and peppers. It was Tosh's favorite." Jack stopped for a moment, glanced at him with a pained look, but then smiled and nodded. He continued to the kitchen and ordered their food while Ianto drank a glass of water. Then he poured them both some of Owen's scotch.

Jack raised an eyebrow and took a sip. "Strong stuff," he said.

"Well earned," Ianto replied. He sat down at the table and started back on the stale crisps. Jack joined him and was silent for a moment, until he finally asked one of the many questions Ianto was dreading.

"Are you really okay?" he said softly. "Your shoulder, I mean. Everything else…well." He sighed and took a long sip of his drink, coughing slightly when he was finished.

"Yes, it's fine," Ianto replied, feeling like a skipped record, repeating himself over and over. "Dislocated, but since I never had a chance to ice it or rest it, it's severely inflamed. The doctor gave me some pills, said to wear this for a week to give it a chance to heal." He waved the sling and grimaced. "Then I should see my regular doctor for a follow-up, to make sure the swelling is going down. Only I don't have a regular doctor…" He trailed off, the unspoken _anymore_ left hanging in the air between them.

"Why didn't you say something?" Jack asked. "I could have helped, gone with you."

"There's too much going on," Ianto replied. "I tried not to think about it, until it got so bad I couldn't think about anything else. I wanted to make sure nothing else was wrong, get some medication."

"So you lied and said you were going to see your sister?" Jack asked pointedly. Ianto sighed.

"I did talk to her," he offered. "On the phone."

"Yes, I heard," Jack replied dryly. "Which is how I know you went to A&E. You could have told me. I understand things are hard now, but…"

"But what?" Ianto asked. "It's okay to be hurt, to take the time to heal, to mourn? Because it's not—not really. There's too much to do. How are we going to do it with only three people?"

He let his head fall, trying to hold back the tears. Jack reached out and took his hand.

"We'll get through this," he said. "But we have to talk to each other. I want to know if you're hurt or upset."

Ianto's head whipped up. "That works both ways, Jack. You can't expect me to share things when you don't."

Jack blew out a long breath. Ianto wasn't sure if he was angry, frustrated, or perhaps even feeling guilty. He half-hoped it was the latter. Jack often held others to standards he didn't hold himself. Why would Ianto share anything when Jack shared almost nothing?

"You're right," Jack finally replied. "I can't expect that, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drive you away."

Ianto snorted and finished his drink. He was definitely feeling it; one glass of water and half a bag of crisps barely blunted the effects of the alcohol, and he found his tongue loosening far more than usual.

"You didn't drive me away," he said. "But I didn't want to bother you with it. There are more important things to worry about right now."

"Than you?" Jack exclaimed. "Than your health? I can't do this without you. I need you, Ianto, here with me."

Ianto shook his head. "You don't need me, Jack. You think you do and sometimes I think you do too, but only because I like feeling as if you need me. You're strong, though. Independent. One day, I'll be gone, and you'll be—"

"Stop it," Jack growled, pulling away. "Don't say it. And for the record, you don't know what I need or don't need. What I _want._ I know I haven't talked much these last few days, haven't reached out. I understand why you didn't either. It's hard, especially for us, but we're not going to survive this if we don't."

"If we don't what?" Ianto asked wearily. He was having trouble following.

"If we don't talk to each other. If we're not there for one another. Let me be there for you," he said, leaning forward again and taking Ianto's hand. "Talk to me. Tell me when you're hurting."

Ianto sighed. "And you'll do the same?"

"Yes," Jack answered without hesitation. "Why do you think I'm here?"

"I don't know," Ianto confessed. "How did you even get in?"

He tapped his vortex manipulator. "Easy. Although a key might be nice."

Ianto's eyes widened at the implication, wondering if Jack meant it. "Right. A key. So you can sneak in whenever you want?"

"I wasn't sneaking," Jack said, sounding defensive. "I was waiting for you."

"In my bed?" Ianto couldn't help but smile, glad for the conversation to move toward lighter banter. When he stopped to think about it, it was both touching and ridiculous. Touching that Jack thought to go to Ianto's flat to relax and spend the night with him, but utterly ridiculous in that he broke in and fell asleep in Ianto's bed. He wondered how Jack had even ended up there.

"Yes, well," Jack started, then laughed at himself. "Fine, I was tired. I went to the bathroom to clean up—the green towel is mine—then saw your bed and decided to lie down for a few minutes. Which turned into several hours."

Ianto patted his hand and stood up to get another glass of water. "It's fine. It's sort of…well, nice, in a way."

"What, that I snuck into your flat and fell asleep in your bed?"

"You said you weren't sneaking," Ianto pointed out with a grin.

"And I wasn't!"

"I suppose it's nice that you thought to come here. You're welcome any time, you know." Ianto turned away, embarrassed at the unusual show of affection between them. He was so tired he couldn't help it. He also wasn't sure he'd make it until the food arrived.

Jack stood and joined him by the sink. He wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist and leaned forward for a quick kiss. "Thank you," he said quietly. "So it's all right if I stay?"

"I can't eat all that food you ordered on my own," Ianto pointed out, teasing him. Jack frowned, missing it entirely.

"I meant, for the night. I'd like…well, I'd like to get away from the Hub. Tonight, and maybe tomorrow. It's not…" He sighed and let his eyes slip closed. "It doesn't feel like home right now."

Ianto pulled him into an embrace, enjoying the sense of comfort. "Any time, Jack. Really."

They stood there for a several minutes, silent and unmoving, both wrapped up in thoughts of the last several days and all they had lost. Ianto had hoped to spend the night alone, recovering from his own physical and emotional trauma, but now that Jack was there, he couldn't imagine spending it any other way. He pulled back with a questioning look.

"What movie did you want to watch?" he asked.

Jack grinned. "Actually, I brought one. _Batman and Robin."_

"What?" Ianto asked, unable to hold back a grimace. "Seriously?"

Jack nodded. "It was Owen's favorite," he said. "He was really drunk one night before you or Gwen joined us, and tried to get me and Suzie to watch it. Then he made us swear to never tell a soul."

"I can see why," Ianto murmured. "Still, mushroom and peppers for Tosh and poison ivy for Owen. Sounds like a bang-up night."

Jack nodded. "I think they'd approve."

"I think so too," Ianto replied, his voice cracking. He laughed nervously, afraid he was about to break down, and turned away, moving toward the living room to lose himself in a ridiculous movie. "Come on, let's get started before I fall asleep on my feet."

Jack took his hand and squeezed. "I miss them too," he said softly. "And I'm sorry they're gone."

Ianto sighed and swallowed the lump in his throat. "We'll get through this, yeah?"

"Yes," said Jack. "We will. Together."

It was both small comfort and more reassuring than Ianto could express. As long as Jack stayed, Ianto felt like he could make it. He knew one day that Jack would leave—leave him, leave Cardiff, leave the planet—and move on to another life in his long eternity, but for now Jack was there, with Torchwood, with Ianto. They would weather the storm and continue to fight, continue to live, continue to love. For as much time as they had, together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading all of these small stories! We've reached the end of series two, but if you are interested in more, please read Cocktail Hour – Moonshine by Taamar, my totally awesome and amazing beta who not only looked this over, but added another coda to Exit Wounds with a rather unusual twist. I hope to write two more myself, but cannot say when. I often think about following up some of the audios, but then why not the novels as well? I may pick and choose, but as I said, I do see this series bearing at least two more drinks. Someday. We'll pause for now, however. Thank you again for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it!


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